Road to Nowhere
by SheLikesSwedishFish
Summary: Not just another Walking Dead fanfic: The apocalyptic adventures of Alexis Reilly, investigative reporter and zombie killer. Part One.
1. Dead Man Walking

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own or hold any rights whatsoever to any of the Walking Dead characters, living, dead or undead. I take no credit for Robert Kirkman's storylines or any other of his creations, as he is a God and must not be disrespected in such a way. I do however take credit for my own OCs and original thought processes, which you will see below. Please respect my ramblings and do not borrow or steal. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>Dead Man Walking<strong>

"I should have stayed in Boston," Alexis Reilly mumbled to herself. She shifted in her seat and pulled irritably at her stockings , which served only to trap sweat and humidity from the oppressive southern heat in places where nobody wanted it. She had kicked off her shoes and tossed her jacket in the back seat the moment they got in the car, but the silk blouse, black short shirt and stockings were clearly a poor wardrobe choice for a road trip to Georgia.

"I hate the South. Have I told you how much I hate the South?" She grumbled as she twisted her hair into a sweaty knot above the nape of her neck.

She glanced sideways at the young man driving their rented Explorer, just in time to see him roll his eyes and shake his head. She'd been complaining about the heat since they landed in Columbia, South Carolina, and it didn't help that the temperature seemed to rise at least fifteen degrees the moment they crossed the state line. Sweat didn't seem to be an issue for Peter Quinn, she observed irritably. Most likely because he didn't wear pantyhose. His dark hair was thick and curly, always catching the eye of females who crossed his path, and by rights it should have been pouring sweat. But it wasn't, of course. That was what pantyhose were for.

"Welcome to Georgia," Peter read aloud from the cheerful, flowery sign on the state line. He flashed Alexis a wide smile. She snorted and lit up a cigarette, not bothering to roll the window down.

"Whatever," she said. "It just means more country music, cheap beer and guys with cowshit on their boots. Maybe if we trade this bucket in for something with air conditioning that actually works, I might feel a little more - Peter, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm rolling the window down."

"For chrissake, roll it back up! Have you seen the size of the bugs around here?"

"You said you were hot."

"I said the air conditioning sucks, I didn't say I wanted you to invite every six-legged thing into this shitbox!"

"The car's getting smoky."

"So what?"

"It bothers me."

"Well, I need to smoke. Unless you want me to turn into a massive raving bitch before we get anywhere near Atlanta."

"Too late," Peter retorted flatly, and compromised by rolling the window halfway up.

Alexis made a point of taking three more long drags from her cigarette, then rolled her own window down and flicked the butt out with an exaggerated flair.

"Happy now?" she closed the window and started digging in her leather bag for her cell phone.

"That's how forest fires get started, you know."

"There's no forest here. See the dirt?"

"Brush fire, then."

"Screw you, Quinn."

"Up yours, Reilly."

"Whatever. How did we land this assignment, anyway? Did I seriously volunteer to cover a country music concert thing way down South?" Peter chuckled and rolled his window back up.

"Yes, actually you did. And it's not a concert thing, it's for a good cause. Country for the Homeless, remember? Country music stars, outdoor music festival. It's Woodstock, baby. Don't you remember the sixties?"

"I was born in the seventies," Despite her sour mood, Alexis found herself smiling slightly at the visual image Peter's description brought to mind. Happy naked hippies and beautiful freaks grooving in the sun... no, more like lots of sweaty people wearing cowboy hats, boots and chugging beer. Maybe not as pretty, but it would have to do. With the right words and the perfect measure of prose, combined with Peter's brilliant photography... something good would come out of this road trip to Hick Heaven, or Hell.

_Alexis Reilly, investigative reporter and freelance journalist, with her trusty cameraman and occasionally loyal sidekick Peter Quinn at her side. Together they venture forth into unchartered territory, pasty white Bostonians braving excessive heat, cheap beer, cow shit and monstrous bugs just to bring the story home to their faithful readers. The savage journey continues..._

"Holy shit!" Peter stomped on the brakes hard with both feet, sending Alexis and her cell phone flying forward into the dashboard. The Explorer's tires screamed and the back end fishtailed wildly as Alexis planted both hands on the dash and pushed herself back to stare through the windshield at the man standing in the middle of the road. One brief thought shot through her mind - Why the hell doesn't he MOVE? - and a split second later the Explorer slammed into him.

She heard herself scream as he bounced up the hood and his face hit the windshield right in front of her, leaving a bloody red smear. He then rolled, tumbling limply off the left side of the hood. Peter yanked the wheel hard to the right to avoid hitting him again, and the Explorer finally came to a stop at the side of the road.

"Holy shit," Peter said again, and turned to look at her with eyes wide and face white.

"We hit him," Alexis said numbly, but Peter was already out through the driver's side door and running the hundred feet distance to the crumpled, broken mess in the road behind them. "Call 911," he shouted back over his shoulder.

"911," Alexis repeated. "Right." She bent down and picked up the pieces of her cell phone, and spent a few seconds trying to put it together with fingers shaking uncontrollably. She heard Peter calling out to the man in the road, trying to rouse him.

"Dammit," she hissed, and tossed the cell phone pieces back on the floor. She fumbled with the door handle with her right hand, not realizing that she'd broken three of her fingers on the dashboard, and finally yanked the door open with her left.

"Please tell me he's alive," she said as she half-ran and half-stumbled up to where Peter stood looking down at the man in the road. She stopped short at the sight of him, grabbing hold of Peter's arm to stop herself from falling over.

"I don't think so," Peter said. They both stood in shocked silence for a moment, staring down at the man in the road. Both legs were very obviously broken, crushed and twisted at horribly awkward angles. His right arm bent the wrong way at the elbow, and his face ... well, his face did not even resemble anything human anymore.

"What the hell happened to him?" Peter finally managed.

"We hit him with the car! What the hell do you think happened to him?"

"No, I mean, _look_ at him. He looks... sick." Alexis looked again, swallowing with a dry throat as she forced herself to quickly examine the man's broken face. What skin could be seen through the blood was ashen gray, and open sores showed on his neck and arms. His eyes, open and staring were both bloodshot and yellow. Blood seemed to have pooled inside his mouth, and the tip of a black tongue protruded from his mouth.

"Okay," she swallowed again, fighting nausea and watching closely for any signs of life. No breath, no movement. He was clearly very dead. "So he was standing in the middle of the road because he's sick and didn't know what he was doing. We still hit him! My phone's broken. Where's yours?" Alexis stepped back as she realized that the horrible smell in the air appeared to be coming from the dead man in the road. It was as if he'd been dead for a long time already, which was only truly odd because he'd been standing up five minutes ago.

"It's in my bag," Peter gestured back toward the car. "Front pocket." He crouched down next to the motionless body as Alexis backed away a few more steps, then turned and hurried back to the car. As she closed the short distance, she realized that they hadn't seen another car in the last hour, having decided to stay off the main highways for the sake of scenery.

"Fuck scenery," she muttered as she climbed into the back seat and reached for Peter's bag. "I _hate_ scenery, and I hate the South. I should have stayed in Boston." She found the phone and pulled it out, again fumbling at it with her broken fingers. She had just flipped it open and observed the no signal reading when she heard Peter shout in surprise, and the shout turned into a shocked scream. She turned to look out of the back window in time to see Peter launching himself to his feet and kicking the dead man on the ground once before scrambling away.

"What the hell are you _doing_?" Alexis shouted, climbing out of the car again and running back towards them. "Peter, what is going - _oh my god_..." She stopped so fast she nearly skidded and fell, again grabbing Peter's arm and staring as the dead man struggled to get up off the ground, broken legs, twisted arm and all. Failing at standing up, he started to push himself towards them in an absolutely weird dragging-crawl with his shattered legs and one good arm.

Peter and Alexis took a several steps back together, and their movement seemed to get the full attention of the... dead... man. He's dead. There's no way he can't be. Defying all reality, the dead man opened his blackened, bloody mouth and snarled a gurgling, raspy choking sound that sent ice up Alexis' spine. Thick, dark blood ran freely out of his mouth and dripped to the pavement below to form a greasy puddle. She froze, unable to move as he reached out with his good arm and nearly touched her ankle.

Peter grabbed her arm, and seconds later they were climbing back in the Explorer through the driver's side. Peter locked the doors and they both turned to stare through the rear window at the bizarre horror that continued to wriggle towards them like a broken snake, spitting more black blood and leaving a dark smear on the road behind him.

"What the hell is going on?" Alexis breathed. "He was _dead_, Peter. What happened?"

"I was trying to check his pulse," Peter whispered, as if keeping quiet might hide them from danger. He stopped speaking and watched the dead-man-thing as it drew closer, so it was almost out of their sight through the back window. Alexis swallowed, afraid to ask but not knowing what else to say.

"Did he have a pulse?" she asked finally. Peter turned and started the engine, then floored the gas and they pulled back out onto the road with an echoing screech.

"I don't know," he said once the thing was out of sight of the rear view mirror."I never actually touched it... him. He just rolled over and..."

"And what?" Alexis pressed. "Peter, what happened?"

"He tried to bite me."

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><p>At that same moment, at a police roadblock just outside of Macon, Georgia, Deputy Sheriff Rick Grimes shoved his partner Shane Walsh to the side and took a bullet meant for him in the upper chest. As he collapsed to the ground, gunfire and shouts of officer down! erupted around him.<p>

Rick lay still, feeling oddly calm as his life began to slowly bleed out of him. Shane's face appeared above him, a mask of absolute worry and fear, but Rick only looked up at the clear blue sky and wondered if he'd ever see Lori again.


	2. Wakey Wakey

**Wakey Wakey**

It was Sunday morning, and Daryl Dixon was dying a horrible, excruciating death.

No, wait... back up a second. He was already dead, and the morning sunlight that filtered through the single stained-dirty window was simply tormenting him into realizing that he was dead, and being dead was no fun at all.

No, that's not it, either. He wasn't dead at all, just face down on a dirty mattress with a good old-fashioned Southern Comfort hangover. A close encounter of the third kind with alcohol poisoning. If he was still drunk from the night before, that would at least be an improvement. But no, he was waking up against all better judgement to face dry mouth, throbbing brain, raspy throat, aching muscles and a very sour stomach.

"Fuck you, day," he mumbled into the mattress. If anyone had been listening, they would have heard something completely different, something that sounded more like_ uungu ugh._ He considered rolling over for a moment, but the effort of cussing out the arrival of daytime made his head throb, so he stayed where he was for a few more moments. Sleep would be impossible at this point, but total lack of movement seemed the best choice for the moment.

It was a brief moment, though. There were six more trailers serving as neighbors in the immediate area, and inside each one of them lived people who enjoyed making noise using everyday methods such as multiple snot-covered children, drunk spouses who liked to scream and break shit, random target practice with sawed-off shotguns and loud-pipe motorcycles. One such motorcycle was barreling up the dirt road right now, and Daryl groaned out loud as the sound barrier shook inside his head.

"Fuck you, Merle," he mumbled into the mattress again, and this time it sounded more like actual words. He pushed himself up and into a sitting position. The motorcycle drew nearer, and Daryl spit out a few more choice words for his brother as he managed to stand and attempted to focus his eyes on his surroundings. Merle's bike was the loudest in town, and everyone who heard it coming knew it was his. The fact that he was out riding already really pissed Daryl off, because it meant he had no hangover, or at least none worth mentioning. It also meant that he was probably coming over to beat his little brother's head in, as he'd started to do last night before somebody broke it up. Daryl couldn't remember how it started or who stopped the fight outside the bar, he only remembered being pissed that he'd dropped like a rock when Merle sucker-punched him, more pissed that he'd been too dazed to get up and hit him back.

He made his way down the narrow hall, tripping once over his own boots, which had for some reason been dropped in front of the bathroom door at some point last night. A little further down the hall was another pile of clothing, most specifically pants. He didn't bother to pick them up. Pants were absolutely optional around here on hangover days.

"Asshole," he mumbled as the motorcycle's engine cut off just outside the door. He yanked it open and immediately stepped back as the sunlight slammed into his face, covering his eyes with both hands for a moment. A gruff-sounding laugh greeted him, but as he rubbed his eyes and blinked to clear the fog in his brain, he realized it wasn't Merle.

"Afternoon, Dixon," a cheerful voice assailed his ears. Daryl glared down at the sheriff's uniform with a nauseating grin gleaming out at him from under the hat. Afternoon. Well, that was good. At least the day was already almost over.

"Forrest," he mumbled thickly. Now he was confused, as Sheriff Forrest tossed him the keys to Merle's motorcycle with an even wider grin and a cruiser pulled up behind him. The deputy in the driver's seat was wearing a shit-eating grin as well, and Daryl wondered why the hell these guys were always so damned cheerful.

"Just savin' you the trouble of stealing Merle's ride out of the impound yard," Forrest explained. He squinted at Daryl's face for a moment with a slight smirk, taking in the swollen right eye and split lip. "He do that to your face? The boys said he was pounding ya pretty good last night."

Daryl pocketed Merle's keys and attempted to smirk back, even though it made his face hurt even more.

"Fell down," he said shortly.

"Yeah," Forrest nodded. "That happens when big guys punch ya in the face. You wanna press charges? He's already in lockup."

"Nope," Daryl turned back inside and started digging around in the kitchen for his truck keys. No way he was driving Merle's bike downtown. Not with this headache. "Bail?" he called over his shoulder.

"Not this time," Forrest followed him inside the dark trailer, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "Jesus, Dixon. How do you live like this? He beat up two deputies and kicked out the window of the cruiser. More than drunk and disorderly this time."

Daryl frowned and rubbed his eyes again, finally locating his keys inside the microwave, along with something that resembled a pot pie. Forrest raised an eyebrow at this, but made no comment.

"So I can't get 'im out?" Daryl sniffed the pot pie and suppressed a gag before tossing it back into the microwave and slamming the door shut. He found a can of Pepsi in a cabinet, warm but sugary and caffeinated. Perfect.

"Nope," Forrest said shortly, and turned back to the door. "We'll get him a lawyer, he'll see the judge tomorrow morning. You can come and say 'bye, he's goin' away for awhile this time." Daryl popped the can open and took a long drink, following the deputy to the door and kicking his boots ahead of him one at a time.

"Hey Forrest," called the other deputy from outside. "Dispatch called... a couple of tourists flippin' out over hittin' a deer or somethin out on 60B. They wanna make a report."

"They wanna report hittin' a deer?" Forrest frowned as he got into the passenger side of the cruiser. He glanced back towards the trailer just as Daryl stumbled outside, one boot on and the other in his hand.

"I dunno. Some reporter from up North and her boyfriend. Said they killed it with the car but it got up tried to bite them... not making much sense."

"All right, then," Forrest nodded. "Let's head in. Hey... Dixon," he called as they started to back out. Daryl turned and scowled at them, pausing on the way to the truck.

"You might want to put yer pants on first." The two officers pulled away in the cruiser, laughing heartily as Daryl looked down at himself clad in boxers and one boot, then gave them both the finger and went back inside his trailer.

"Man," the younger deputy said, glancing at the Dixon trailer in the rear view mirror as they pulled away. "I don't get that guy. Merle takes a swing at him at least once a month and he just keeps on bailing the bastard out. Makes no sense."

"Nah," Forrest dismissed the issue with a wave. "I've known the Dixon boys since they were kids. But the way their daddy used to beat on them both it's a miracle they turned out this well, and I know that ain't sayin' much. They looked after each other after he got put away. It ain't Daryl's fault Merle is such a prick."

"Merle's goin' away longer this time," the other said, and Forrest nodded.

"He's a mean sonofabitch, and it's no less than he deserves. Daryl used to be a good kid, when Merle was in the military. Soon as he came back... well... let's just say not having Merle around seems to make everyone happier."

"Yer just soft on him because he used to date yer Rosie and you always wanted a son in law."

"Shut yer mouth. The day my daughter marries a Dixon is the day hell freezes over."

"Bunch of little Dixons running around at Easter and Christmas, Uncle Merle stopping by for Thanksgiving dinner..."

"Shut. Up."

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><p>While Daryl was looking for his pants and Sheriff Forrest defending his daughter's honor, Merle Dixon was lounging on the cot in his cell studying the cute brunette in the short skirt who was nervously pacing in the very small station's waiting area.<p>

She wasn't from around here. Expensive clothes, high heels, prissy tight-ass attitude. She dusted off the seat of a chair before sitting down on it, and kept her hands in her lap like she was afraid she might catch a bad case of redneck if she touched anything. She had quite a mouth on her, too, and didn't seem to care who heard her running it.

"Lemme guess," Merle spoke up, leaning on one elbow as he tilted his head to study her. "New York, right?" She didn't respond, just kept on fiddling with a cell phone with her left hand, as the right was wrapped in thick bandages. Her companion_ - looks like a faggot to me_ Merle chuckled to himself - leaned toward her, eyes on Merle in the cell across the room.

"He's talking to you," he said quietly.

"Who?" Alexis looked up at him, surprised. Peter gestured with a nod, and she turned to look at the man in the cell.

He was a tall, heavyset and hard-looking sort. Alexis couldn't begin to guess his age, he looked like he'd spent a lifetime riding hard and drinking even harder. Dressed in torn jeans, a leather vest and faded T-shirt, he seemed very bit the part of hard-ass biker. But his eyes caught her attention, and their steely-cold hardness made her want look away quickly. But he quirked an eyebrow at her and winked, and after a brief moment of eye contact, she snorted and turned away.

"Great," she muttered. "The village idiot wants to make friends. Just what I need."

"Upstate," Merle guessed again. "Tennis courts and sailboats."

"What is he babbling about?" Alexis asked Peter.

"He thinks you have a purty mouth," Peter drawled quietly.

"Oh my god," Alexis groaned and shook another cigarette out of the half-empty pack. _I should have stayed in Boston. I should have stayed in Boston._

"Golf courses and tea paaaarties..." Merle said in a singsong. She stood up and walked to the window, opening it a crack to vent her smoke. Outside, a police cruiser was pulling into the lot, and she watched as the Sheriff and a deputy strolled slowly and easily towards the building, pausing to chat with passers-by.

"Jesus," she muttered. "What happens when there's a real emergency? He breaks into a brisk walk?"

"We do everything slower down here, darlin," Merle called to her, just as the Sheriff entered the room. "And I do mean _everything_."

"Shut up, Dixon," he said casually, as if in greeting. "Or I'll have Fat Maddie come down here and sit on you." He smiled at Alexis, making no comment as she stubbed her cigarette out on the windowsill.

"It's about time," she said irritably. "We've been waiting here for an hour. Is somebody going to get out there and find that guy?"

"We've got a unit out there. But which _guy_ would that be?" Forrest asked, sitting on the edge of the nearest desk. "And who exactly might _you_ be?" Peter cleared his throat and stepped forward, extending a hand to the Sheriff.

"Sheriff, this is Alexis Reilly with Channel 9 news in Boston. I'm Peter Quinn, we're covering the Country for Homeless concert in Atlanta this weekend." Forrest shook the man's hand, nodding and smiling.

"I understand you hit a deer out on 60B," he said. "Not exactly a criminal offense in these parts, son."

"Ven-i-son," sang Merle from across the room.

"A deer?" Alexis echoed in amazement. "It wasn't a deer, for chrissake! It was a man. He was all sick and... oozing." She gulped slightly at the memory, and Forrest frowned at them both.

"A man," he repeated. "You hit a man out on 60B and left him there?"

"Well... yeah," Peter ran a hand through the hair on the top of his head nervously. "But it's not that simple."

"Got room over here in my cell for one more," Merle offered graciously, waggling his eyebrows at Alexis.

"Shut up, Dixon." said the Sheriff, moving around behind the desk and reaching for the radio. "Maddie," he called into the mouthpiece. "You heard back from Herb yet? He should be out on 60B by now."

"Not yet," the disembodied voice came back, crackly through the static. "He's not answering the radio. You want me to send another unit?"

"Yeah," Forrest sighed. "And keep trying to raise him on the radio. Out." He put down the mouthpiece and turned to look at Alexis and Peter.

"Okay," he said. "So I'm guessing he didn't actually try to bite you, either?"

"Um," Peter looked at Alexis. "Actually, he did."

"You said he was dead," Forrest said, feeling his patience starting to run thin.

"I thought he was," Peter said, realizing how lame this was starting to sound.

"He looked sick," Alexis added. "I mean, really _nasty_ sick."

"You know," said Merle, now standing up and leaning against the bars. "Some crazy sumbitch bit Wally outside the bar last night. I thought he was drunk & tryin' to kiss 'im. He looked sick, too." Everyone turned to look at him, then at Wally who was sleeping in the next cell.

"You two," the Sheriff pointed at his office door. "Go inside, sit and stay." He took the keys off his desk and headed towards Wally's cell. Alexis and Peter made no move towards the office as he walked away.

"Hey Wally," Merle called. "Wake up and show 'im where that crazy guy kissed ya."

"Merle," said Forrest. "I ain't telling you again. Shut the hell up." He stopped outside Wally's cell and tapped on the bars with the key. No movement came from within, so he unlocked the door and stepped inside. Now that he thought about it, Wally had been unconscious when they brought him in last night. Everybody assumed he was as drunk as the rest, and dealing with an out-of-control Merle had been their first priority. The other drunk and disorderlies had been released that morning, but Wally was still slumbering so they'd left him alone to sleep it off.

"Could be he's dead," Merle suggested with a sly smile. He leaned as far as he could to the side, trying to see inside the cell. Forrest ignored him, and reached out a hand towards the sleeping man's shoulder.

"Not going to look good on your next job application if ya let someone die in jail," Merle said in a _tsk tsk _fashion. Forrest sighed in annoyance, and turned to face Merle just before his hand touched Wally's shoulder.

"Don't make me shoot you," he said. "Your brother's on his way in and I'd hate to ruin his - GAAAAAAH!" Forrest fell backwards, scrambling to grab his gun as Wally launched himself up off the cot and landed on top of him, snarling like a rabid dog.

"Yeah! Git 'im Wally!" hooted Merle. "Jaaaaaailbreak!"

Peter darted forward to help and Alexis yanked the door open to the parking lot, looking around wildly for the deputy who had been there not even five minutes ago. he was nowhere in sight now, of course, but she hollered for help anyway. People across the street stopped and stared at her, and one started running towards a gas station down the road. Then her blood ran cold as the sound of a man screaming reached her ears, and she darted back inside to see Peter half-dragging the Sheriff out of the cell... with Wally quite literally chewing a hole in his leg. Merle continued to hoot and cheer like a deranged hillbilly, adding his own noise to the Sheriffs screams. A chuck of flesh tore free, and Alexis stared in shock as she realized what Wally was doing, then looked around wildly for something - anything. _This is a police station! Where are the goddamned police?_

Forrest managed to grab hold of his gun at last, clearing it out of the holster and swinging it towards Wally's head, but a hand shot out from behind the bars and grabbed hold of it. Forrest looked up into the grinning face of Merle Dixon, and felt the gun slipping from his fingers just as Wally's teeth sank deep into his leg.

"Let it go!" shouted a shrill voice, and suddenly the air around Merle was full of white foam. He sputtered in surprise, stumbling backwards as a steady white stream hit him full in the face. The gun clattered to the floor, and Alexis kicked it out of his reach and stepped forward, holding a fire extinguisher in her hands. Forrest kicked hard at the horror gnawing on his leg as if it were a Thanksgiving drumstick, and Peter pulled on him again as Alexis moved in, swinging the fire extinguisher down onto Wally's head as hard as she could. A loud _crack_ echoed, and the Sheriff scrambled free with Peter's help.

Wally was down on the floor, but Alexis felt her stomach churn again as he looked up at her with bloodshot and yellow eyes, black blood dripping from his mouth and flesh stuck between his teeth. _He's trying to** eat** him...that other thing was trying to eat Peter... this can't be happening. What is happening? _

"Fucking bitch!"Merle screamed from his cell, completely oblivious to Wally's transformation as he coughed and spat out fire extinguisher foam. The Wally-thing on the floor snarled and scrambled towards her, and she dropped her impromptu weapon and backed away with a gasp. Suddenly, a shot rang out from somewhere behind her, and she dove to the floor as two deputies appeared out of nowhere, guns drawn. She caught a glimpse of a third figure entering the station just as a second and third shot rang out, but she turned her head to watch as the back of Wally's head exploded and his body dropped like a stone.

Complete silence settled over the small station for a moment, as everyone stared in shock at the scene before them. Then a small cough sounded from the doorway, and all three police officers spun to face the sound with guns drawn.

Daryl Dixon stood just inside the door, a can of Pepsi in one hand and look of complete confusion on his face. He froze in place and raised his hands slowly as the guns remained pointed at him.

"Uh... there's a guy eating a dead cat outside," he said. "Thought you might want to know."


	3. No Viable Options

_**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews, everyone. Very very much appreciated. May I offer you a cliffhanger tonight?_

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><p><strong>No Viable Options<strong>

"You have no right to keep us here," Alexis Reilly insisted firmly, eyes locked angrily with those of the two uniformed soldiers standing guard at the roadblock.

"Ma'am," the soldier repeated, his face a mask of unrelenting hardness. "Please get back to your car and head back to town. This area is under quarantine and I can't let you or anyone else leave."

"You _can't_ do that," Alexis argued, hearing Peter close the door to the truck and walk up behind her. "This isn't a police state, for crying out loud. We don't live here, we're on our way to Atlanta!"

Three days had passed since they had struck and killed - _sort of _- an unidentified man in the middle of route 60B. Since then a local drunk had attempted to eat the town sheriff, and another had given a very public display of his newly acquired taste for raw, freshly dead cats. As if that weren't enough, the military had landed exactly four hours later. Armed to the teeth and dressed in varying degrees of hazmat gear, they effectively closed the town in every possible way.

The town of Harmony only had two roads going in or out. This made it amazingly easy for the military to shut them down completely, at least for those who required a road to get out. Thick woods and a maze of unmarked dirt roads and paths leading out of the area were another route, but for Alexis and Peter, not a very viable option. Armed patrols watched the wooded and back road areas around the clock, and those who tried to flee through the woods were rounded up and either sent back to their homes or detained in the makeshift holding area inside the small elementary school.

Nobody else had tried to eat anyone yet, at least not as far as Alexis and Peter knew. Alexis figured it was only a matter of time, especially when the Center for Disease Control arrived to gather up dead Wally, the cat connoisseur and Sheriff Forrest. who as of this moment was sporting a nasty fever as a result of his infected leg wound. Deputy Herb Morris had returned from checking out the dead man on 60B, white-faced and shaken as if he'd faced the devil himself. He'd been questioned extensively, and reported that he'd found him - it - crawling on the side of the road and shot it in the head after it bit him on the hand. He'd been whisked away just as quickly.

The others who'd witnessed the scene with Wally were also questioned and released, aside from Merle Dixon, who still resided in the small town jail. The remaining two deputies were left to run the Sheriff's department, although once martial law was declared, that only meant babysitting Merle.

The younger Dixon, whom Alexis and Peter had followed outside to witness the cat being eaten (by the local Judge, as it turned out) and had been effectively ignored after a very brief interview. He'd stonewalled his uniformed questioners completely, and they could find no reason to waste time pursuing him. They pretended not to believe the cat story as Alexis and Peter told it, and Daryl didn't seem inclined to care enough to back them up. He also never mentioned that Peter had filmed the entire incident with the cat using a small home video camera. Or that he'd clubbed the doomed judge to death with a baseball bat grabbed from the back of his truck after he grew tired of cat and made a grab for Alexis.

Alexis had briefly wondered why he'd kept silent about the video, but decided he might just be a dumb hick who had no idea how crucial such a piece of evidence might be if it ever made it out of town. She suspected he was just as big an asshole as his brother, just a little less mouthy. But at least she knew what the mouthy one was thinking, he was certainly very put out over the fire extinguisher incident. Daryl Dixon was too quiet for her liking. He was the type who watched everything and everyone without comment, which meant one of two things: Either he was too stupid to have any idea what was going on and therefore unable to form any intelligent comment at all, or he knew exactly what was going on and was choosing to keep it to himself until it suited his needs to do otherwise.

_With a name like Daryl Dixon, all he needs is an orange car with a Dixie flag on the roof a sexy sister in short shorts named Daisy, and a moonshine still in the barn to complete the hillbilly ensemble. No... a cousin. Was Daisy Duke a sister, or a cousin? It's official, I'm in Hillbilly Hell._

Within hours of the military's arrival in town, the telephones went out, cable and satellite TV went dark, internet access ceased to exist and what few cell phone signals did get through stopped entirely. Within 24 hours more than half the town fell ill, although nobody could say how they came to be that way. The small clinic was taken over by CDC doctors and scientists, and those who went in were still there, and visitors were not allowed. The town of Harmony was officially off the map, Alexis was sure of it. And she didn't want to disappear with it.

Harmony had one hotel, if one could even call it that. Small, dingy and cockroach-infested, Alexis and Peter spent two nights as "guests" before deciding to leave. But leaving was proving to be more difficult than she'd hoped. The sound of another vehicle pulling up behind theirs only served to put the roadblock guards more on edge.

"Ma'am," the soldier said again, his voice rising slightly. "This is a public health issue, and we are acting under the authority of the United States government - "

"Oh, spare me," she snapped, suspecting his defensiveness might be a weak spot. "You ever heard of the US Constitution? The Bill of Rights? Don't talk to me about authority. This a _cover-up_ if I ever saw one. We're all witnesses, is that it? Do you have any idea who I am? When word of this gets out -"

"Honey," Peter stepped up behind her with a quick, nervous laugh and gripped her shoulders not quite gently. "We'll just have to wait it out here. I'm sure they'll let us all out as soon as it's safe." _Honey? _Alexis gritted her teeth.

"We're supposed to be honeymooning in Atlanta," Peter explained to the guards, who both looked as if they couldn't care less. "She's just a little upset. We'll come back another time." he smiled, a little too widely, and steered her away firmly.

"Honeymoon?" Alexis snapped as he pushed her back towards the Explorer. "If you're _trying_ to piss me off..."

"Give it a rest," Peter said, his friendly tone vanishing. "What do you think would happen if they found out you're a reporter?" He opened the door for her and she glared at him for a moment before climbing in.

"We have to get out of this town," she said quietly after he'd gotten in on his side and started the engine. Peter smiled at the guards through the windshield and waved cheerfully before turning the wheel and making a u-turn back towards town.

"I know," he said. "And I think I have an idea how we might be able to do that."

"What are we going to do? Hike through the woods?" Alexis reached for her cigarettes automatically, feeling as though every possible option was miles beyond her reach. Peter didn't answer her question, only looked thoughtfully at the darkening sky as he drove. As they passed the line of cars approaching the roadblock, he raised a hand at one in particular. Alexis recognized the blue and white truck Daryl Dixon had been driving that day at the police station, and turned to look at it as it drove on past them, then turned right off the main road and onto a smaller side road.

"What the hell?" she wondered aloud, and remembered that Peter had gone out alone last night, intending to visit the two bars in town to see if he could pick up on a little gossip. "Making friends with the locals, Peter?"

"I wouldn't say he's friendly," Peter said. "But I heard he likes to go hunting." Alexis blinked at him, clueless.

"Hunting," she repeated flatly. "Who the hell cares?"

"Alex," Peter said impatiently. "He knows the woods in this area better than anyone. He can get us out of here."

"You asked him to help us, and he said he would?" Alexis frowned suspiciously. Neither Dixon seemed the charitable type.

"Sort of," Peter said hesitantly. "He offered us a deal. I told him we'd think about it."

"Let me guess," Alexis snorted. "He wants a case of Southern Comfort and more ammunition for his next hunting trip."

"Not exactly," Peter sighed. Alexis groaned and rubbed her eyes, wondering for the thousandth time how they'd ended up in this mess. They were out of options. They'd have to find away to pay Daryl Dixon's price, whatever it was.

"What does he want?" she sighed.

"We have to help him bust his brother out of jail."

* * *

><p>Up the road a bit in Atlanta, all hell was breaking loose. The Center for Disease Control slammed their doors shut, city law enforcement collapsed under the sheer numbers of recently risen dead and martial law ruled the streets for as long as possible. Soldiers began shooting those who died through the head before they could rise again, but this method was one that perhaps should have been used much sooner. Soon they simply opened fire on anything that stumbled or shambled like one of the newly risen dead, and soon after that they stopped asking questions first. The residents not yet affected barricaded themselves inside their homes in the hopes of waiting it out, but reports of "Wildfire" spread through crackling radio transmissions from all over the state, and soon from beyond. Hope died even faster than those who attempted to pass through the streets among the rapidly growing and swarming dead. As the sun began to set over the city, the dead outnumbered the living by a terrifying percentage.<p>

Too late, the order was given to evacuate the city. Those who chose to follow the order dashed madly for the highways, in vehicles and on foot. Those on foot were quickly overrun, while those who managed to drive out of the city found themselves trapped in an endless jam of abandoned vehicles. And everywhere the dead were walking.

Throughout the night, the numbers of the living dwindled rapidly and those that were not torn to shreds and eaten alive by the advancing horde retreated to military evacuation points in desperation. There were twelve such points established throughout the city, and all but one fell under the grabbing, tearing hands and teeth of the dead. At that last evacuation point, just as the sun was beginning to rise, a wild-eyed, exhausted soldier gave up his seat on the helicopter for a woman with a young child in her arms. He stood back and watched as it rose into the air and departed with 23 civilians on board. Momentary silence settled over the area, broken only by the steady, droning sound of the dead moaning their way towards him.

He walked quickly to the HQ tent that had been hurriedly set up only a few days before, and reached for the radio to give his final report. He spoke rapidly into the transmitter, knowing he sounded panicky and breathless. When he was finished, he waited a long, agonizing moment for confirmation that his message had been received. The confirmation came in the form of a subdued, grim-sounding voice on the other end.

"_Copy that, Atlanta. Message confirmed. Wildfire has commenced, no viable options. Executing order DC-19. Good luck, soldier."_

The soldier swallowed hard and set the receiver down on the desk, then looked up towards the parking lot, which was now filled with the advancing horde of the ravenous walking dead. He could see them, hear them, even smell them. He stood still, watching as they drew closer for a few moments, then in one smooth, decisive move he pulled his sidearm from its holster and put his last bullet through his head.

As the shot echoed across the city, a young Asian man by the name of Glenn stopped in the middle of the alley he'd been trying his best to move through silently. He listened for a long moment, but no further sound of gunfire erupted. Distant screams reached his ears, the kind of screams he'd recently learned happened when a person was being eaten alive.

Atlanta was finished, and he'd been stupid to hang around this long. Grimly hoisting his backpack a little higher up on his shoulder, Glenn started moving again. Quick and quiet as a mouse fleeing through a lion's den, he exited the city of Atlanta through back alleys and quiet streets, never once noticed by the dead.

* * *

><p>"This is crazy," Alexis seethed, lifting the worn and stained curtain of the hotel room window for the tenth time to peek outside at the parking lot. The sun had risen less than an hour ago and the early morning Southern heat was just starting to burn through the thin layer of clouds. "What are we supposed to do? Storm the police station and hold them at gunpoint? If we had guns, that is. I suppose we could point a camera at them and threaten to film them to death."<p>

Peter was stuffing the last few items they'd decided they could bring into his backpack. _Only what you can carry_, Daryl Dixon had instructed him when he'd visited him at his trailer last night. _Anything else slows you down, and you're on your own. She's your baggage, too. _Baggage. Peter glanced at Alexis, hovering around the window nervously. He'd left that last part out when repeating his words to her.

"If we're lucky, we won't have to point anything at anyone," he said to her, watching the back of her head for a moment. "They won't listen to Dixon, but they might listen to reason. That's our part."

"Reason," she mumbled. "Why would they listen to us?"

"Flash your press badge at the deputy. He's small-town, maybe he'll be impressed. If not," Peter shrugged. "Then we're no worse off than we are now. We'll head for the woods and take our chances, without either Dixon if we have to. Come on, Alex," he shouldered the bag. "You said so yourself, we have to get out of here."

"Here he comes," she said quietly, and let the curtain drop. Peter opened the door and stepped back to let her go first. She sighed as she passed him, and he dropped a hand on her shoulder as the door closed behind them. Daryl Dixon was coming up the narrow walkway from the east corner of the hotel, the rising sun briefly silhouetting his lean form and lending an odd, surrealistic touch to the morning. Alexis' mind was was moving a mile per second with thoughts of what they were about to do, and for one strange second she imagined she could hear spurs clanking as Dixon walked towards them with a Clint Eastwood stroll. But the silhouette was gone as he drew nearer, and reality swept back in. _Damn. no spurs. We sure could use an Eastwood-esque gunslinger. Dirty Harry would work, too._

"Morning," Peter said, trying to be civil if not amiable. Daryl squinted at him, his expression giving away nothing. He studied them both quickly, and Alexis knew he was sizing them up. For what reason, she couldn't imagine, but she caught a brief glint of something in his eyes as they flickered over her face. He avoided eye contact almost completely, but she couldn't help but notice his face seemed somewhat pale.

"Is that a_ crossbow?" _ She blurted out, mainly because she didn't feel that she should say _good morning_ if it wasn't. Daryl reached a hand up to touch the weapon slung across his back, secured in place with a single strap across his shoulder. Quieter than a shotgun, and everyone around here knew he hunted with it.

"Yep," he replied. He studied her again, this time a little more closely. She'd traded silk blouse and short skirt for pricey-looking jeans and a T shirt that had to belong to her man, but she still looked pure city. She'd even taken the time to put on makeup, and he could smell her hairspray and perfume from here. He glanced down at her feet, and paused for the space of two quite blinks. Strappy white leather sandals and brightly-polished pink toenails gleamed cheerfully at him, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Well, good thing we're not huntin'," he sighed, and walked past them both, estimating that she'd have her first blister or pulled muscle a quarter mile into the woods. If she even made it that far.

"What?" Alexis demanded of Peter in a loud whisper. "I'm leaving a $300 pair of shoes behind, for chrissake!"

The walk to the sheriff's station was a short one, as was the walk to any other place in town. The small clinic, which had been locked down once it reached capacity lay furthest away, just on the outskirts of the main center. Alexis, walking behind Daryl and Peter, could see it just beyond the town's only church. They'd learned last night that the CDC had taken several patients with them and abruptly left town, presumably heading for Atlanta for better treatment options. Only the military presence remained, and they mostly kept to the outer borders.

"It's too quiet," Peter remarked to Daryl. "Lots of families around here, right?"

"Some," Daryl agreed, watching the trees just to their right as they approached the station.

"So where is everyone?" Peter wondered aloud. "No kids going to school? No parents working? They can't all be sick already."

"Could be dead," he said, and stopped, turning so Alexis could see him pointing to the trees on the right. "We gotta head through there when we come out. 'Bout a half mile straight up there's a creek. Creek leads north to Big Rock. Whatever happens you head for that rock, y'hear?" He glanced at Alexis again, and she caught that strange glint in his eye again.

"What do you mean?" she said suspiciously. "The deal is, we help you get your brother out and you lead us out of here. What to you mean _whatever happens_?"

"You got yer deal," he narrowed his eyes at her and turned away. "Jus' thinkin things might not go as planned if someone starts shootin'."

"No," Peter said firmly, and stepped fast to catch up with him. "No shooting. We didn't agree to any shooting."

"Yeah, and you didn't agree to anyone shootin' _you_ now did ya?" Daryl pushed through a bit of bushes, and suddenly they were all standing right behind the sheriff's station. Alexis felt her heart start pounding as she stared at the back wall of the small cement building. Peter stepped to her side and his arm brushed hers. Daryl stood quietly for a moment, as if listening to the air itself, and Alexis could have sworn he actually _sniffed_ a few times before gesturing for them to follow as he walked quickly towards the single rear door.

"Look," he finally spoke quietly just before opening the door, turning to face them both. "You don' have any idea what's been happening. This town is dead, and you don' know the half of it. All's I want from you," he pointed at Alexis, "is to flash that badge yer buddy says you have and talk some sense into that idiot deputy so's I _don't_ have to shoot him." He slung the crossbow off his back as he said this, and Alexis saw that a bolt was already in place and ready to fire. He raised his eyebrows at her, and after a brief moment she nodded in reply.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Alexis whispered. Daryl didn't respond, only turned and opened the door.


	4. Jailbreak

_Everybody knows that the Plague is coming_  
><em>Everybody knows that it's moving fast<em>  
><em>Everybody knows that the naked man and woman<em>  
><em>Are just a shining artifact of the past<em>  
><em>Everybody knows the scene is dead<em>  
><em>But there's gonna be a meter on your bed<em>  
><em>That will disclose<em>  
><em>What everybody knows<em>

_And everybody knows that you're in trouble_  
><em>Everybody knows what you've been through<em>  
><em>From the bloody cross on top of Calvary<em>  
><em>To the beach of Malibu<em>  
><em>Everybody knows it's coming apart<em>  
><em>Take one last look at this Sacred Heart<em>  
><em>Before it blows<em>  
><em>And everybody knows<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Jailbreak<strong>

Deputy Jones was 23 years old and had been a full-fledged member of the Harmony Sheriff's Department for a total of six weeks. Six weeks ago, it hadn't occurred to him even once that he would become Sheriff, and as he sat at the desk in the very small reception room and pondered the situation, it seemed even more unbelievable.

But even more unbelievable was the fact that in less than a week's time the population of Harmony had been reduced by more than half. The unbelievable-ness only went on from there. Jones had been on the graveyard shift for eight hours, and there was another concept that seemed pointless - shifts. Nobody called, nobody stopped by and nothing happened. At least until Mrs. Jasper called to report what sounded like gunfire down by the Old Quarry trailer park. This by itself was not an unusual occurrence, but given the present state of things it sparked fears.

Jones and Sanders, the last two deputies not sick or missing, had drawn straws to decide who would go and investigate. Sanders, the oldest of the deputies, dark-skinned and abnormally cheerful, had been the lucky winner. He had left five hours ago to check on the trailer park residents. Since then he hadn't returned, or called in.

"So here we are," Jones said out loud to himself, looking to the left at the largest of the station's three holding cells. Merle Dixon had been pacing all night, obviously still keyed up over the previous day's excitement and downright pissed off. That was actually the most normal thing about today. Merle was always keyed up and pissed off.

"Black Bart call in yet?" Merle barked, pausing mid-pace to glare at Jones. He knew full well that he hadn't. "Stupid monkey sumbitch probably stopped for breakfast on the way back."

"Doubt it," Jones ignored the racial slurs, having long ago become used to the Dixon family's colorless repertoire. "The Dewdrop's been closed since Monday."

"My brother lives down there," Merle informed him for the fourth time in an hour. "If somethin's goin' on, I gotta right to know."

"Don't we all," Jones sighed. "Settle down, Dixon. He'll be back."

"Yeah," Merle seethed. "Sure he will. Then I get to watch both of you sit there with yer thumbs up yer asses." He resumed pacing, alternating his glares between Jones, the front door and the hallway leading to the back door.

_Looking for a way out, _Jones observed. _He's gonna bolt the second anyone opens that cage. I know I would._

The sudden rumble of a large vehicle passing by caught his attention, and he stood up quickly to look out the front window. Merle pressed up against the bars, craning his neck to see for himself. Four large army-green trucks were passing by, heading towards the clinic and elementary school at speeds far above the small town limits. Jones could see that each one was full of armed soldiers, armed to the teeth and wearing full riot gear.

"What the hell?" he moved around the desk to the front door just as two more trucks, much smaller passed by the other way, heading into town.

"Somethin's going' down," Merle said. "Telling you, boy. The shit's gonna hit the fan and you don't want to be in the middle of it." Jones watched as the trucks pulled into the school parking lot and soldiers began to disembark, charging into the small building with weapons in hand.

"It's all sick people in there," he said out loud. "What are they doing?"he glanced at Merle as if the big man had the answers, but received only a steady gaze in return. Jones turned away from the door and strode across the room to the dispatch desk, not sure who he was going to try to reach. Before he made it to the radio, Sanders burst through the front door, making Jones jump nearly to the ceiling and spin around to stare at him. The heavyset black man was almost completely covered in blood. His uniform was torn at the shoulder and hanging by threads, as was the arm beneath it. The ghastly wound ran from his shoulder to forearm, and Jones could see white bone peeking through the dark, bloody flesh. Blood dripped freely to the floor, and he held his gun openly in his other hand.

"They're killing them," he said, waving the gun at something behind them. "They're eating them. Jesus Christ, they're _eating_ them!" Jones and Merle both stared at him, neither comprehending a word he was saying. Sanders stumbled towards the weapons closet at the back of the room, dropping his empty gun on the desk and leaving a trail of fresh blood behind him.

"Who? What? Jesus, Sanders you're bleeding." Jones heard his voice rising shrilly in fear, and Merle cast a disgusted look at him. Sanders fumbled with the lock on the closet door, finally throwing it open.

"We have to get out of here," he shouted, and started ransacking the weapon and ammunition stores. "Take what we can carry and get out of here. They're coming!"

"What the fuck is going on?" Merle shouted. "Lemme out of here you pussy-ass little -" he stopped abruptly and fired a new glare at the back hallway, where three new arrivals now stood.

"Hello?," said Alexis Reilly. Merle growled low in his chest at the sight of her, and found himself glancing at her hands to see if she was holding a fire extinguisher. Peter Quinn stood just behind her, and Merle felt a small smirk creeping into his features as Daryl Dixon came up to stand just to her right. Jones spun again to face her, his hand dropping to his own holstered weapon.

"Whoa," Peter put both hands up quickly. "Easy now." Daryl gripped his crossbow and glanced over at his older brother. Something quick and silent passed between them, and Merle nodded once, his expression changing to one of steely resolve.

"I'm sorry," Alexis said to Jones quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you." Jones relaxed slightly, but frowned at the trio.

"Listen," Alexis started talking fast. "I don't think we have a lot of time to discuss this, but I need you to let him out of that cell." she gestured at Merle. Jones looked at her, then Merle, then at Daryl standing still with loaded crossbow in his hands, then back at Alexis.

"You're kidding," he said, and reached for his gun again. "You wanna bust him out? Now? Are you crazy?"

"Probably," she said. "But in case you haven't noticed, everything's a little crazy around h - " she broke off and stared as a wild-eyed and bloody Sanders emerged from the gun closet carrying two shotguns and a box of shells. He stumbled and dropped them all, falling forward on hands and knees.

"Oh my god," she breathed, stepping back and trodding on Daryl's foot as the man abruptly started vomiting blood onto the white station floor.

"You get bit?" Daryl spoke up, stepping forward with the crossbow pointed at the floor. "Hey," he said louder. "They bite you?"

"They?" Jones echoed. "They who? What do you know about this?"

"I've seen 'em," Daryl said, as if that explained everything. "Down by Old Quarry."

"Seen _what_?"

"Please," said Alexis, swallowing as Sanders continued to retch and moan. "Please just give me the keys and I'll let him out. You can't leave him in there anyway, not with what's been happening."

"Yeah," said Merle, his tone suddenly calm. He put his arms through the bars and rested on them, almost casually. "Listen to the pretty lady. You can't leave me in here."

"Get back," Jones said as Daryl stepped closer to Sanders, studying him as if he was a new kind of bug. He felt his control of the situation slipping, if he ever really had control to begin with. Daryl did not step back, but stayed where he was for the moment.

"You can come with us," Alexis offered. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a plastic card in a small leather case. She held it up for him to see, and he squinted at it. "I'm with Channel 9 news, and we have people in Atlanta. If we can get to them, they can send help." It was a bluff, and not even a very good one, but she hoped Daryl had been right about a press badge giving her some credibility. Jones wavered and glanced at Daryl again, who was now pointing the crossbow at Sanders' head.

"Put that down," Jones' voice was shaking, same as the finger he pointed at Daryl.

"He's bit," Daryl said simply, not bothering to look at him. "He's infected."

"Bit by _what?_" Jones practically shouted. He looked back at Alexis helplessly. Sanders started to cough and choke, and Daryl took an involuntary step back as blood spewed towards his feet.

"Can you help us? Your people in Atlanta, can they?" Jones asked Alexis. She looked at him incredulously, then glanced at Peter.

"Yes," she lied, looking the younger Jones right in the eye. "Of course." Daryl turned and looked at her, and she avoided his gaze as Jones shakily pulled the cell keys from his belt and passed them to her. She nodded at him with a forced smile and turned away to unlock Merle's cell. Peter breathed an audible sigh of relief and Merle stepped back, eyes fixed on Alexis' face as she turned the key in the lock. She looked straight at him as the door swung open, and he gave her an ice-cold smile as he stepped forward.

"Let's go," Daryl said. He kept the crossbow pointed at Sanders as he started to back away. The deputy was now unconscious and quiet on the floor. He looked dead, but clearly that didn't make Daryl feel any safer. Jones knelt down next to him, looking defeated.

Merle walked out of the cell, his shoulder bumping into Peter's hard, and strode across the room towards the shotguns Sanders had dropped on the floor. Jones glanced up at him, then started to rise and reach for his own gun. He never made it to a standing position.

A sudden crash sounded as the front door was literally kicked in. Three soldiers dressed in riot gear poured into the room, weapons brandished and voices raised. Daryl spun with the crossbow and took aim at the nearest, but he was too close and the man ducked and lunged in closer, clubbing him solidly in the head with the butt of his weapon. Daryl stumbled backwards against the wall and the crossbow was slapped out of his hands.

"Get up!" the next one shouted, pointing his rifle at Merle as the older Dixon reached for a shotgun. Alexis let out a short scream as the third charged towards her and Peter, shoving them towards the wall next to Daryl. Jones scrambled backwards towards a far corner as Merle was shoved growling like an angry dog to stand against the wall with them. He gripped Daryl's shoulder as the younger man stumbled, dizzy and bleeding from the blow to his head, and held him upright against the wall.

"Any more?" the first soldier demanded of Jones, who sat staring mutely at the scene before him. "Is there anyone else here?"

"N - no," Jones stammered. "It's just us."

"Sir!" one of the soldiers spoke up, a walkie-talkie in his hand. "The clinic and school are cleared, but there's walkers in the street. We've lost contact with five and six."

_Cleared?_ Alexis thought. _What do they mean cleared? Walkers. There's walkers in the street. Holy shit_.

"Give the order to pull out," the leader said shortly, then turned to look at the group against the wall. "As soon as we take care of them." Then he turned and in one swift motion drew his sidearm and shot Sanders straight through the back of the head. Jones opened his mouth to shout and the second soldier shot him right between the eyes, blood splattering on the wall behind him. Alexis was screaming before she fully realized what was happening, and the room started to spin before her eyes. Merle shoved Daryl hard to the side, and Daryl slammed into Alexis. They both tumbled to the floor in a heap as gunfire erupted and bullets struck the wall where their heads had been a split second before. Peter dropped to the floor beside them, hands covering his head.

Merle howled like an animal and lunged forward, grabbing two of the soldiers by their necks and slamming their heads together. One dropped immediately, and Peter darted forward to snatch the weapon from his hands. Daryl pushed and scrambled to get up, his elbow hitting Alexis squarely in the eye as he did so. She slid backwards as he crawled lightning-fast to the soldier on the floor and punched him hard in the face. Peter fumbled with the weapon, and Daryl snatched it out of his hands with an impatient snarl. The sound of breaking glass made his head snap up.

"Daryl!" Merle shouted as a nightmare swarmed through the front door. Stumbling, bleeding and snarling with inhuman and unimaginable hunger, the walkers poured through unchecked, and he tried not to stare at the faces he recognized. They surrounded the last standing soldier, and he screamed as dozens of dead hands grasped at him and teeth sank into him at all points. His finger squeezed the trigger reflexively, and the weapon fired wildly, peppering the room with bullets. Peter tripped over the soldier Daryl had punched and grabbed at Alexis, shielding her from the gunfire.

Merle bellowed and locked his arm around the neck of his would-be assassin. He squeezed and twisted once, and Alexis shrieked again as the sound of the man's neck breaking reached her ears. The man dropped to the floor, Merle kicked the crossbow across the floor to Daryl and caught the automatic rifle Daryl tossed to him. He then bent and scooped up the two shotguns and a box of shells from the floor. He handed one shotgun to Daryl as the two moved towards the back hallway.

"Let's go!" Daryl shouted, and reached down to grab Alexis' arm. He yanked her up to her feet quite un-gently and shoved her ahead of him down the hallway. Merle gave Peter a boot to the rear when he didn't move fast enough.

"Move it, Jew-boy," he snarled, and pushed the shotgun and shells into his hands. "Make yourself useful or I'll leave your worthless ass here." He turned and faced the room full of snarling dead as the others sprinted down the hallway to the back door, the soldier's automatic rifle in his hands. Amazingly, not one of the walkers seemed to notice him as they all piled onto the unfortunate soldier, ripping pieces of his flesh and devouring them as if they were stripping a Thanksgiving turkey. He stopped screaming after only a few seconds, although it seemed like much longer.

Merle fired a few shots anyway as he backed down the hallway after his brother and his new city friends. One of the walkers looked up from the feast, fixing its dead eyes on him and appearing to grin at him with blood dripping from its teeth. Merle grinned back and blew its head off.

"Merle!" Daryl shouted from the back door. "We're leaving!"

"Keep yer pants on!" Merle shouted back as he turned and ran down the hall to the door. He pushed past Daryl and through the door, and both of them pushed it shut, making sure it latched.

"We should burn the fuckin' building down with them inside. Wiener roast!" Merle hooted with laughter and checked the clip on the rifle. Daryl gave him a _look_ as he hurried down the steps to the back parking lot and Merle followed, still chuckling. Both of them stopped when they reached the lot, and Merle sighed in irritation.

Alexis was kneeling on the ground with both hands pressed over the gunshot wound in Peter's chest. She looked up at them both, her face completely white in stark contrast to the bright crimson blood draining onto the ground next to her.

"I can't stop the bleeding," she said faintly.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Leonard Cohen_


	5. A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

**A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall**

"Can't stay here," Merle said loudly as Daryl walked towards Alexis and Peter, the latter bleeding to death before their eyes. She was talking to him, her voice low and shaky but Daryl couldn't quite make out the words. He looked the man over quickly, taking note of his ashen face and the enormous pool of blood around and under him.

"He's bleedin' out," Daryl said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if that wasn't already completely obvious. Alexis shook Peter slightly, as if to rouse him from his pitiful state.

Behind them, Merle gritted his teeth and gripped the MP5 he'd taken from the soldier back inside. He turned in a circle, surveying the area around them and seeing no immediate danger, but that didn't change the fact that some really bad shit was coming, and fast. The longer they stayed here, the less likely their chances. Merle sighed in frustration as Daryl bent and picked up the backpack from the ground.

"We. Can't. STAY. Here!" Merle called to him again.

"He's not gonna make it," Daryl said to Alexis. She turned her head and looked up at him, tears, anger, fear and countless other emotions boiling within her eyes. Peter made a horrible choking sound and coughed blood that sprayed onto her t-shirt.

"Peter," she whispered, and he opened his eyes, focusing on her with great effort. Daryl glanced back at Merle, who threw up his hands in a _what the hell _gesture.

"I don't know what to do," Alexis was saying to Peter. "Tell me what to do!" Peter looked at her, then over her shoulder at Daryl, who was clearly uncomfortable with staying out in the open.

"Come _on_!" Merle shouted, and started edging back towards the trees lining the parking lot.

"Can't stay here," Daryl said to her, and stepped closer. "If yer still comin' it has to be now." Peter reached up and gripped both of her wrists, then pushed her hands away from his chest.

"Run," he whispered. "Run now." Muffled sounds came from within the sheriff's station, the bizarre and tortured sound of death as it followed the hallway to the back door. Alexis struggled to her feet and backed away from Peter.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, then turned and stumbled towards Merle, who was now at the edge of the trees and looking as if his head might explode in frustration. Daryl started to follow her, then glanced back at Peter and saw the shotgun and box of shells he'd been carrying, lying on the ground next to him. He quickly bent and scooped up the shells, tossing them into the backpack, then reached across Peter's nearly lifeless body to pick up the shotgun. Peter's hand shot up and grabbed Daryl's wrist as he gripped the weapon. Daryl yanked his arm away, but Peter grabbed at his shirt with his other hand and held tight, struggling to speak. Daryl glared his fiercest glare at the dying man, but listened as he spoke to him in a ragged, broken whisper.

"DARYL!" Merle bellowed as the back door started shaking under the repeated blows of the walkers just beyond it. "Move yo' ass _NOW_ goddammit!" He ignored Alexis as she drew closer to him, and cursed his stupid, worthless brother just as he had many times in the past. He decided that if he had to go and get him he would beat the little fucker senseless as soon as they were out of this town.

Merle's shout jolted Daryl into action, and he pulled free of Peter's grasp. The door behind them shuddered violently as more walkers began hammering on it, smelling their next meal on the other side. Daryl ran towards Merle and Alexis, hands full with shotgun, crossbow and Peter's backpack.

"What did he say?" Alexis demanded, and Daryl threw the backpack at her. She caught it reflexively and stumbled again as he pushed her roughly after Merle, who was already twenty paces ahead of them and into the trees.

"Shut up and run," he growled, and cast a quick glance to the right. Walkers from the street, drawn to the bust of activity were starting to shamble toward them as they ran into the cover of the trees.

"Where?" Merle called back, pausing to let Daryl catch up. He ignored Alexis completely as she struggled wordlessly to get her arms through the backpack's straps. She was already breathing hard as the adrenaline surged through her blood.

"Big Rock," Daryl said as he caught up. "Truck's parked on the other side." Merle nodded and took off at a run, heading North without hesitation. Daryl followed and Alexis brought up the rear, fighting to not trip over her own feet as her thoughts spun wildly. Gunfire erupted again just as they reached a small creek, and Daryl glanced back in the direction of the town as he splashed through it.

The town of Harmony was dead, in the literal sense. The surviving soldiers had executed the remaining living residents, and the realization made his blood boil. Whether the purpose was to contain the infection or silence witnesses, he could only guess. Maybe both. He supposed it didn't matter now that the walking dead outnumbered the soldiers by at least ten to one. Alexis gasped as the cold water washed over her feet in the strappy leather sandals, then stubbed her toe on a rock and fell face-first onto the ground. Daryl hesitated for the smallest fraction of a second, but she pulled herself up quickly without a sound and kept moving. Peter's final words drifted through Daryl's mind as the three of them moved through the woods, quieter than the chaos behind them even with Alexis' hyper-fast breathing.

_She's your baggage._

* * *

><p>"It's not much further," Glenn sighed and began trying to fold the map correctly. "Just keep following this road, it bends left past the lake."<p>

Dale Horvath rubbed his eyes tiredly and glanced back towards the rear of the RV where the girls were sleeping. Amy was sleeping, at least. Andrea was most likely sitting awake, watching the world go by outside the windows and worrying about her sister. He turned the radio down slightly, but kept it on so they could just hear the music. they hadn't been able to raise any local stations since yesterday, but the old RV's scratchy cassette player still managed to function better than the vehicle's radiator.

_Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?_  
><em>And where have you been my darling young one?<em>  
><em>I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains<em>  
><em>I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways<em>  
><em>I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests<em>  
><em>I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans<em>  
><em>I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard<em>  
><em>And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard<em>  
><em>It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. ..<em>

Only three days had passed since Andrea's car broke down during a road trip she'd been taking with her younger sister, Amy. Dale had happened upon the two of them stranded, hot and looking very lost. Being the naturally helpful sort, he'd offered them a ride. He'd liked them both immediately, and their company was a pleasant distraction from the recent events and the solitary nomadic style he'd taken to since his wife had passed away. A gas station ten miles from where the car broke down had yielded no results, a single employee manned the pumps, but the mechanic hadn't showed up for work that day. Eventually the girls accepted his offer to take them all the way to Atlanta to return Amy to college and hopefully find help for Andrea's car. The three of them shared a pleasant road trip for a short time. Amy was vibrant and youthful, something that reminded Dale of happier times and better places. Andrea reminded him of Emma in so many ways, but at the same time was as different from her as anyone else. Apples and Oranges.

They'd been driving for what seemed like days now, although it had only been few couple hours since they reached the outskirts of Atlanta and quickly realized it was not the best place to be. Without even setting foot inside the city, the horrors they'd witnessed were indescribable, the likes of which Dale had never imagined in his worst dreams. They'd come across a young Asian man named Glenn after making a hasty retreat, and he'd talked for almost an hour about the events he'd witnessed in Atlanta. A little further up the road they picked up Jim, a lean gaunt-faced man with haunted eyes and a quiet manner. He barely spoke during the trip, keeping to himself and watching the world passing by outside the window.

The RV had been refueled some time ago, but Dale watched the gas gauge worriedly as he maneuvered the vehicle along the back road. Glenn had pored over maps with him during a rest break just before the sun went down, and they made the decision to head for high ground to camp for the night and decide what to do in the morning. An old quarry lay just outside the city, a lake surrounded by high rocky ground and thick forest. Ideal for camping, fishing and hunting to the vacationing wanderer, and possibly refuge for four people who were strangers only days ago, and now were running for their lives. Dale doubted any easy decisions would come with morning. But at least now they had a destination, one that would hopefully be safe for at least a short time.

"Right there," Glenn pointed, still fumbling with the map. Dale steered left and looked doubtfully at the narrow dirt road as they began to ascend. Jim appeared just behind them, peering out through the windshield as the RV's motor began to sputter. Dale glanced at him and smiled ruefully. The RV was an antique by rights and he hoped that the worker's jumpsuit Jim wore with his name embroidered on the front meant that he was a mechanic. Of course, even if he was, it wasn't likely he could do much under present conditions.

After several bone-jarring jolts and frightening moments caused by deep ruts in the rarely-used dirt road, they came at last to the top of the hill, and Dale breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the road leveled out. The road opened into a dirt clearing wide enough to turn the vehicle around, but the nearness of the steep slope to the quarry made Dale nervous enough to not try it in the dark. He parked as far from the trees as he could, and as the vehicle came to a stop everyone peered anxiously out the windows, watching the nearby woods for movement.

After a few moments Dale cut off the engine, leaving the lights on. The only sound to be heard were crickets and other night time insects.

"Is it safe?" Amy asked after a few more moments of silence. Nobody answered, but Dale opened his door and stepped outside cautiously, then reached back inside for the hunting rifle Glenn handed to him. He stood still, listening for a few long moments, but no sound other than the crickets reached his ears.

"I think we're okay for now," he said.

* * *

><p>After almost a full day of straight running through the thick Georgian woods, Merle finally spotted Big Rock, which was literally a big rock awkwardly positioned on the side of a steep rocky hill that went straight up and stretched to the East and West for several hundred feet. He slowed to a halt and rested a hand against a nearby tree for a moment to catch his breath. Daryl was right behind him, and somehow that prissy-assed princess had managed to keep up as well, although she was a good fifty paces or so behind them. They'd encountered only two walkers during their mad dash from Harmony, one with only half a chewed-up leg and the other with no eyes. Easy targets, and Daryl had dispatched both quickly and quietly with the crossbow .<p>

All three of them were now drenched in sweat in the heavy, humid heat. The temperature had risen to be close to a hundred, even in the shade of the forest. Dirt mingled with blood covered every inch of them, but they'd had barely a moment to pause and make that realization. Nobody spoke for a few moments as they all approached the rock. Daryl dropped the shotgun on the ground in front of him and bent with hands on his knees, sweat dripping off his face. Alexis dropped to the ground quite ungracefully, and sat on her knees breathing hard and coughing. Merle awarded her with a quick glare. She was making so much noise it would be a god-damned miracle if they made it out of these woods alive.

"Break," Daryl said, only slightly less breathless as she was, and sat on a fallen log, producing a metal canteen filled with water from his own pack. He took a drink, then passed it to Merle, who only took a quick shot before passing it back and looking up at the rock. It would take them another couple of hours to get over the rise, then back down to the truck parked on the back access road. And it was starting to get dark.

"Ten minutes," he said. "Then we have to get to the top. Gettin' dark, and I ain't spending the night on the ground." Daryl nodded and took another long drink, then glanced over at Alexis as if he'd just remembered she was there.

"Hey," he said to her as she coughed again as if about to retch up a lung. "S'matter with you? You dyin?"

"Yes," she finally managed after another fit of coughing and a couple deep breaths. "I'm dying." _For a cigarette._ She glanced up at them both, and Daryl held out the canteen to her. Merle watched them both in a somewhat predatory-curious way, and Alexis looked away from him as she drank.

"Don't drink too fast," Daryl warned as she took several long gulps. "If you puke it's yer own fault." She took one more and passed it back, her breathing finally starting to slow down.

"You smoke too much," Daryl commented, then screwed the cap back on and stood up. Alexis flinched slightly, instantly reminded of Peter's constant lecturing about her most loved and hated vice. _ Peter..._

"Yeah, this is real nice," Merle said in a bored tone. "But maybe one o' you assholes might wanna tell me what the fuck is goin' on? Startin' with why Wally tried to eat Sheriff Gump." Alexis sighed and sat down proper on Peter's backpack, oblivious to the bulky items inside that poked her in the butt.

"Ten minutes ain't enough," Daryl shook his head his expression neutral, but Alexis didn't have to know him well to hear the anger simmering below the surface. Anger seemed to drive them both, violence always just below the surface. It frightened the hell out of her, but also seemed strangely comforting. These two were the most hillbilly backwoods rednecks she'd ever encountered, and she had little doubt they would both survive at any cost. Merle reeked of ex-military, but she did not want to imagine what he'd seen, or done. She had no delusions that either Dixon would willingly play white knight to a damsel in distress, but she figured if she could keep up it would immensely improve her own chances. Merle seemed to be enjoying this little adventure, and that part scared her the most.

"A virus," she said. "Or a disease of some kind. I don't know. The whole town got infected. Peter and I saw one out on 60 before we got here. We hit it, and we thought we killed it. But it tried to bite Peter, and..."

"It was already dead," Daryl interrupted, his back turned to her.

"That tells me jack shit," Merle snorted, and jerked his thumb in the direction of the rock behind them. "We're gonna climb this bitch. When we get to the top, I want to know why we're not at the top of the food chain anymore."

It was dark by the time they reached the top, and the moon was just starting to rise. The climb was difficult enough for the Dixon brothers, Daryl having the easiest time of it, but for Alexis it was pure torture. Her shoes were made for fashion, not cross-country terrain and rock climbing, and they slipped at almost every step. She barked her shins and cracked her knees repeatedly on jutting rocks. She'd broken two fingers and dislocated one when they'd hit the walker out on 60B, and it rendered her right hand almost completely useless. The fingers on her left were raw and bleeding from overcompensating with death grips before she'd made it halfway up. She cried out once when her foot slipped and earned her a nasty scrape up the ankle, but Merle cast her such a fierce look she bit down on her lip and focused on Daryl's feet just ahead of her.

Merle ordered them to stop once as a sudden rustle sounded in the brush below them, and Alexis hung on for dear life to the small ledge Daryl was standing on. The rustle grew louder as whatever creature it might be approached their position, and Alexis felt panic rise in her throat as she realized her own sweat was making her fingers start to lose their grip. She cats a desperate look upwards and caught Daryl looking down at her with a frown. Whatever expression she wore on her face must have alerted him to her peril, and he quickly shifted his weight, grabbed hold of the rock behind him and reached down, catching her right wrist just as her left hand let go. She pushed with her feet and turned her arm so her own hand was gripping his forearm as best she could, and risked a quick look down at whatever was creeping through the bushes. Her movement dislodged a stone, and she heard Merle's whispered curse as it bounced loudly down the steep ridge.

A large buck bolted from the bushes, followed closely by two smaller females. They crashed noisily away and Merle laughed quietly, almost sounding relieved. But their movement startled Alexis even further, and her other foot slipped so she was suddenly dangling in mid air. She felt a shriek trying to escape her lips, but swallowed it down hard as an image of her own broken body on the rocks below sprang to her mind.

"Gimme your other hand," Daryl grunted and grabbed it as she swung it up to him. He _pulled_, guiding her to a better hold, then reached down and grabbed hold of the pack on her back and yanked her up until she had both feet on the ledge next to him.

"Thanks," she whispered when she could breathe again.

"Whatever," Daryl said, sounding as indifferent as if he'd simply opened a door for her. He glanced down at her right hand, which she was holding gingerly as she winced against the pain in her fingers. "You do that again and I'll let you fall."

Merle laughed out loud, and they both jumped slightly at the sudden sound.

"Ain't no Southern gentl'men here, Sugar-tits," he said gleefully, and turned to climb the last few feet to the top. Daryl immediately followed him, and Alexis did the same. The rest was easier for her, she watched where Daryl stepped and mimicked his movements, taking hold of the same places he did as they finished the climb to the top.

Merle was already seated on a wide, flat rock when they joined him, and he smiled wickedly at Alexis as he patted the spot next to him. She ignored him and dropped her pack to the ground, sat down next to it and started to peel off her sandals. Daryl sat off to her right and set the weapons down next to Merle's, and the three formed a small semi-circle under the rising moonlight. Alexis started to examine her many bruises and scrapes in silence, and Daryl couldn't help thinking she looked like a ragged stray cat licking its wounds.

"Saw a first aid kit in your pack," he said to her after a few minutes, and she looked up in surprise then started digging around inside. At that moment, a bandaid for the blister on her heel seemed a tremendous luxury.

"Damn," said Merle, smirking as he watched her use a tiny amount of water from Daryl's canteen to clean a scrape under the torn knee of her jeans. "Me and Daryl once went hunting up on Blue Ridge when we were kids. We came across a black bear, and Daryl shot it. We dragged that thing back to camp, tied it to the bumper and drove it into town a good 20 miles away. Sheriff Gump wasn' none too pleased. By the time we got it home, that bastard was the sorriest-looking thing I ever seen in my life." Alexis looked up at him in confusion, missing the point.

"You the second sorriest," Merle finished, and leaned forward to take the canteen from her. He turned away and took a long drink. Alexis looked at him for a long time, then at Daryl, who only looked back for a moment before standing up and walking to the North edge of the rock to look down at the valley below. Merle joined him, and they started to talk quietly, discussing where to go from here.

They both pretended not to notice when she started to cry quietly.


	6. Trailer Park Blues

**Trailer Park Blues**

Harrison Memorial Hospital  
>Cynthiana, Kentucky<p>

Shane Walsh stood just outside the visitor's lounge, watching from a short distance as Lori Grimes spoke quietly with her husband's doctor. Their son Carl had stayed at home today with a neighbor, but Lori had spent almost every waking moment at the hospital.

The news was grim, that much was clear. Just over a week ago, Deputy Sheriff Rick Grimes, Shane's partner and long time friend, had taken a bullet to the chest during a shootout at a roadblock on the state line. For awhile things had looked bad, and Shane had found himself starting to believe that Rick wouldn't pull through. But he'd survived emergency surgery and was no longer in critical condition. He was completely comatose, though, and the doctors could not provide any clear answers. He could wake up tomorrow, next week, next year... or never. Shane visited every day, if only for a few moments, but his own duties had doubled in Rick's absence and the news filtering in from Georgia, Alabama and other neighboring states only increased the sense of disaster approaching.

Many in Cynthiana had already fallen sick, and the lower floors of the hospital were full. The morgue was starting to fill up as well. They hadn't seen the violence and chaos of the larger cities, but the arrival of two National Guard units had set everyone on edge. So far the Guard only served to help with the sick and assist local law enforcement with potential issues, and Shane liked it just fine that way. Although he wasn't sure what exactly they meant by "potential issues." _Ain't nothing potential 'bout it, we got issues._

Shane glanced toward's Rick's room, where a nurse was just coming out. He looked back at Lori once more, who was now rubbing her face with both hands as the doctor attempted to console her. _More bad news, _he thought. _Just don't know if any of us can take more bad news._

The stories coming out of major cities were simply unbelievable. Rioting, looting, violence, military intervention. People were dying from the disease and also killing each other in the streets, whether out of hysteria or something else nobody could (or would) say. The disease was widespread, mysterious and damned fast. The smaller towns were silent, either because they were too small to be noticed, or were just safer than the cities. So far, Cynthiana met both descriptions. In the corner of the visitor's area, a television blared through a scratchy picture, reporting more escalating violence somewhere in America. Shane made his way there and stopped just outside the small group that clustered around it. On screen a reporter stood in a street, attempting to deliver his story as chaos erupted behind him about a city block away.

"Where?" Shane asked the nearest bystander, not recognizing the scene as a local area. The young man jumped slightly and then glanced back at Shane, noting the uniform and badge he wore almost nonstop these days.

"Boston," he said. Shane blinked in surprise. The government had been issuing assurances all week that the events were contained to the Southern portions of the country, and that they'd stopped it from spreading any further than North Carolina and Texas. _It's all the way up the East Coast, then. In only a few days... probably all they way to California soon..._ Shane rubbed a hand over his head, ruffling his hair worriedly, and looked back at Lori again. She was done speaking with the doctor, and now making her way to Rick's room. Shane watched her thoughtfully for a moment, his thoughts wandering, then looked back to the television just as the audio cut out.

The reporter was still trying to report, but no sound issued from the screen and seconds later the picture tilted crazily sideways as if the camera had tipped over. Feet clustered around it momentarily, and then the picture went blank. The TV studio cut in then, reporting technical difficulties and switching to another story. Shane turned away and started walking slowly towards Rick's room.

Behind him, an automated emergency broadcast suddenly cut in but went abruptly silent before those watching could be alerted to whatever the emergency had just arisen. Shane glanced back with a frown at the "off the air" image, then at the nurse sitting at the nurses' station. She was looking at the phone in her hand with a puzzled expression.

"What's wrong?" Shane asked her, as she frowned and punched several buttons on the phone.

"I don't know," she said. "Phone lines just went down." Shane stepped closer and glanced down at her switchboard, which had gone completely dark. He frowned and reached for the radio at his belt, but it came to life before he even touched it.

"Walsh," it was Lam Kendall, one of the deputies who'd been present at Rick's shooting and a long time member of the force. "Walsh you better get out here, now. Route 12 at the Whittaker ranch." Lam's voice echoed loudly through the hospital hallway, and several people turned to look at him. Shane raised the radio to his lips just as Lori appeared in the doorway of Rick's room.

"What's going on, Lam?" Shane asked, his eyes meeting Lori's.

"It's bad, Shane," Lam responded. "Real bad. Old Josh Whittaker went crazy and started shootin' people. He said they killed the cows and then came after him and his wife. What the hell is going on?"

"I'm on my way," Shane replied, not bothering to even try to answer Lam's question.

* * *

><p>Nobody slept on top of Big Rock during the night after the exodus from Harmony. As the night wore on and hunger, cold, exhaustion and sleeplessness began to take its toll on the trio, Daryl finally started talking about the events of the night before.<p>

After the Wally incident at the Sheriff's station, Daryl had been questioned by military command quite extensively, just as the others were. He hated their self-important authority and the urge to grab the official little prick by the throat and beat him to a pulp threatened to overwhelm him at any given moment. But he bit down on his anger as he had for most of his life, and insisted he'd witnessed nothing but the cat-eating incident. They had little use for him and finally released him. He'd already decided to get out of Harmony at that point, and returned home to start making preparations. The initial plan was not a very solid one. He had to get Merle out of jail somehow, and there was no way he could do that by simply asking. No, he'd have to do it at gunpoint and then they'd be running from the police, the Army and cat-eating weirdos. It was going to be messy.

Two days later, Daryl collected every piece of camping, hunting and survival gear he possessed and loaded it into his truck. Two small tents, sleeping bags, a single lantern and oil, a large dark green tarp, cooking gear, crossbow and arrows, two big Sig Sauer handguns with two fully loaded magazines apiece, two large hunting knives, fishing pole and tackle, a few changes of clothing, an extra pair of boots, and a baseball bat. The last item had already come in handy once, so he saw no reason to think that it might not again. He loaded everything into the truck, completely filling the small space behind the front seat and strapping the rest into the storage bin in the back. Merle's bike came last, and he struggled to push it up the ramp and into the back of the truck without starting it up, then strapped it firmly into place.

He'd hoped to avoid alerting neighbors to his departure entirely, and it didn't seem to be an issue at all. The other trailers were all dark, the residents either not home or asleep. Daryl did not care to speculate. Nobody slept this early around here. He went back inside for the final item, a large camper's backpack he'd stuffed full with energy bars, beef jerky, bags of peanuts, trail mix and dried fruit. The beef jerky was for Merle, he considered the other items to be little more than rabbit food and would starve without something of higher cholesterol value in his system. He was really going to be pissed when he found out that Daryl didn't bring any beer. If he behaved, Daryl might consider opening the bottle of Southern Comfort under the seat at some point. He went back out to the truck and dropped the pack onto the floor on the passenger's side, then started up the vehicle and pulled away from his trailer. As he drove up the rambling dirt road that led towards town, he didn't look back. There was nothing about his own tiny, broken down home that he would miss. It had always been little more than a place to go when he had to sleep at night after working in the town's garage.

He stopped in town and filled up the gas tank, then went inside and bought two cases of bottled water with several more boxes of 9 millimeter rounds, offering up the explanation that he was going camping to the clerk. No questions were asked. The man simply rang up his purchase and took his money, then helped him carry everything out to the truck and wished him luck as he drove away.

Daryl took the main road North instead of South, then turned left onto a narrow unpaved road that seemed little more than a footpath. In the dimming daylight he could just make out the road before him as he drove, but he'd come this way so many times he could have maneuvered in pitch darkness. The road wound deeper into the woods, and he passed a few small cabins used only by hunters and the occasional squatter. After some time the road turned into a narrow bridge, and then mud. The North side of Big Rock was a steep grassy hill with thick trees clustered at the bottom, and by taking this unknown route he'd circumnavigated the main roadblocks and avoided the armed patrols that were rumored to walk through the woods. He parked the truck in those trees, left everything in it aside from the crossbow and pulled the green tarp over Merle's bike to hide it from unfriendly eyes. The road was about a mile away from this spot, and the odds were close to nothing that anyone would see it by morning.

Daryl hiked back to town through the woods the same way he'd come, and it was well over an hour when he came out behind Choppers, the seedier of the town's two bars and Merle's favorite watering hole. It was as good a place as any to hang out and wait for the night shift to start at the Sheriff's station. He parked the crossbow in the bushes outside, not concerned that anyone would take it. The town seemed deserted and he was sure those that were out wouldn't touch it even if they did see it. People just didn't cross Dixons here. He went inside and took his customary seat at the bar, nodding at Jake, who owned the place.

Jake brought him a straight Southern Comfort without being asked, and then surprised Daryl by pouring one for himself. With only two other patrons at the bar, there didn't seem much need for Jake to stay sober. Daryl shrugged and took his drink in one large gulp.

"You should know," Jake said as he poured him another. "Rosie Forrest died late last night. Her mama too." Daryl looked at him over the rim of his glass for a moment, then swallowed the liquor and set it down. Rosie was Sheriff Forrest's daughter, and the only girl in this rathole town who'd ever been willing to date him. He'd liked her more than he cared to admit, and the worst fight he'd ever had with Merle was a result of the older man calling her a cooze.

"Damn shame," Daryl finally mumbled. It was the closest to remorse he could muster at that moment, but Jake nodded knowingly.

"She was a pretty girl," he said and poured Daryl another. "Sheriff died yesterday morning. Lots of others, too. World's gone to shit, Dixon."

Daryl agreed silently and sat frowning at the battered bartop in silence as Jake moved away to refill the other two drinkers. He took no money from anyone, just kept pouring. A few more regulars came in, and glanced Daryl's way, but his stormy expression kept them at a distance. Merle was the true troublemaker around here, but Daryl's explosive temper was well known and nobody was in the mood to light his fuse tonight.

"This seat taken?" a new voice suddenly intruded on Daryl's brooding thoughts, and he glared at the speaker. It was that faggy-looking guy from the station, the reporter from out of town who'd videotaped the Judge eating the cat and then Daryl clubbing him to death with a bat. Peter. His lady friend had called him Peter.

"Yup," Daryl said shortly, and Peter watched with some interest as the man's expression just about slammed shut, turning from angry to completely blank in the blink of an eye. He sat down in the empty stool anyway and Jake brought him a glass of SoCo as well. Peter started to object, probably wanting Perry-air or whatever East Coast city people drank, but in the end he shrugged and drank it anyway. He didn't say anything for a few minutes, just studied the bar's cheerless decor and drank.

"You gonna show that tape on TV?" Daryl finally spoke up after Jake poured him a fourth drink. It was his last, he decided, looking up at the clock.

"Lex plans to," Peter said. "If we can make it to Atlanta." Daryl laughed once into his drink.

"Long walk," he said, and Peter nodded.

"No walk at all if we can't get out of this town," Peter glanced sideways at him. He'd spotted Daryl and his fully-loaded truck at the gas station, and guessed at his intentions very correctly. He swirled the amber liquid around in his glass for a moment, choosing his next words carefully.

"I'm guessing you won't be leaving without your brother," he said quietly. Daryl turned to face him fully, one elbow on the bar. His direct stare was not a friendly one, and Peter hoped he wasn't about to experience his first bar-brawl.

"What were you going to do, just waltz in there and bust him out at gunpoint?" Peter continued. "In case you haven't noticed, this town is under martial law. They'll shoot you both down before you get a mile."

Daryl looked really pissed now, but it was because Peter seemed to be reading his mind. He knew it was a lame idea, he just didn't have anything better. He chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully for a moment, still glaring at Peter, then glanced at the clock again. The man was making sense, as much as he hated to admit it. He also hated to admit that he was smarter and a lot less stuck-up than the city princess he was traveling with.

"If you slow us down," he finally said. "We'll leave you here." Peter looked at him with an expression of disgust, but then nodded in agreement. The two started talking in low tones. Daryl laid out the plan and Peter listened, nodding and adding his own thoughts. By midnight they'd both consumed enough alcohol to guarantee there wouldn't be a jailbreak tonight, and the plan shifted slightly to Daryl going home and then walking back into town to the hotel where Peter and Alexis were staying.

They parted ways, Peter rambling out the front door with a head full of bourbon and Daryl going out the back to retrieve the crossbow from the bushes. The walk back to Old Quarry trailer park was only about a mile, and he thought nothing of it after all the walking he'd already done today.

As he was coming down the road into the park and his trailer came into view, he heard the snap of dead twigs off to the side just ahead, and slowed to a halt. A single light burned just above his trailer, the only one in the park, and it illuminated the entire area enough to keep burglars and animals away. He stood quietly in complete darkness and slowly slid his crossbow off his back as a single shuffling figure came into view. It was heading towards his trailer. He frowned and moved forward quietly, pausing once to slide an arrow into place and pull the wire back until it was locked and ready to fire.

The figure had stopped a few feet from his trailer, and appeared to be looking up at the light. As he got closer, he saw it was a woman, or a girl. She wore a dirty-looking dress that brushed her kneecaps, and stood barefoot with both hands hanging limply at her sides as her head tilted back. The light silhouetted her hair, and something twisted in Daryl's gut as he recognized dark russet-red hair loosely tied with a single white ribbon. He lowered the crossbow slightly, but kept it pointed in her direction as he came forward and stepped into the light.

"Rosie," he called quietly, and when she turned around to face him he was sorry he had. It was Rosie Forrest... and it wasn't. The dirt on her dress appeared to be dried blood, and her once pretty face had turned into something straight out of a nightmare. Her blue eyes had gone white, her skin an ugly, mottled gray with veins showing clearly through the skin. She stared at him for a moment, swaying slightly and clenching her hands as if unsure what to do with them. A bizarre raspy moan escaped her lips, and blood bubbled onto her chin as the air exhaled.

Daryl backed up two steps as the smell of rotting meat washed over him. His movement seemed to trigger her into action, and she lunged towards him with both hands grasping at him like claws. Daryl swung the crossbow so it was between them, but used it as a shield rather than firing. She reached past it and he felt her fingers digging into his shirt as she flung her full weight against him, that moan turning into a primitive snarl. Off-balance, he pushed hard with the crossbow and shoved her away, sending her sprawling to the ground. She immediately started to get up, still reaching for him with both hands. She came faster this time, and her blank expression twisted into something more enraged. Daryl fired a shot and struck her in the chest. She fell to the ground again, then sat up and tugged fruitlessly at the arrow for a moment, then seemed to forget it as she lunged towards Daryl again.

He dodged to the side this time, fighting to fit another arrow into the crossbow with shaking hands, and she tumbled to the ground a third time. The door to the trailer across from his suddenly banged open, and Stan Wilson leaped out, a double-barreled shotgun in his hands.

"Move, Dixon," he said curtly, and the Rosie-thing hesitated, now presented with a choice in targets. Stan ended the guesswork for her by firing the shotgun as Daryl dove out of the way. He fell backwards and watched in horror as Rosie's head exploded, and her body dropped with a sickening thump to the ground. Stan cocked the rifle and stepped away from her, turning to face Daryl.

"She bite you?" he demanded, the barrels pointing straight at him. Daryl blinked at him and struggled to his feet, thoughts flashing back to Wally biting the sheriff like a rabid dog.

"No," he answered. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Scratched?" Stan demanded. Daryl looked down at himself and noticed bloody hand prints on his chest. He pulled up his shirt and showed Stan that his skin was untouched, and only then did the man lower the weapon.

"They been comin' out of the woods all night," he said, talking fast and barely making sense. "They started burning the bodies this morning down in the quarry, but they stopped around noon. Dunno why, but by late aft'noon they were all up and walkin' again. They're followin' the path right through here... oh Jeezus there's 'nother one. Shoot 'em in the head!"

He pumped off another shot before Daryl even realized what he was shooting at, but he hastily reloaded the crossbow and prepared it to fire. He spotted movement to his left, and turned to see two more coming out from behind Stan's trailer. Then two more from the woods, and three from the road behind him. Stan continued firing, amazingly hitting everything he aimed at. But every shot he fired attracted even more of them, and they were now literally pouring out of the woods towards him.

"Stan!" he shouted, and fired the crossbow at a walker bearing a strong resemblance to the Mayor, hitting him right between the eyes. "Stan, you crazy sumbitch hold yer fire goddammit!" he swung the crossbow at another, hitting it squarely in the head, then did the same at the next one. He reloaded and fired again twice, clearing a path for himself.

Stan's firing abruptly stopped, and Daryl looked back as a crowd of walkers closed in on him. The crazy bastard was out of ammo, and he'd let himself get surrounded. He realized the walkers weren't paying any attention to him now, having been drawn to the sound of Stan's shotgun echoing across the nearby quarry. Daryl lost sight of him in the crowd, and after a moment of indecision he turned and bolted back up the dirt road, trying to ignore Stan's pitiful screams as the walkers tore him to pieces.


	7. Journeys

_Ours is not a perfect world, and therefore the old must die in order that the young, that which is more perfect or at any rate capable of greater perfection, may live. Thus death becomes a thing necessary and useful in the evolution of the whole; the destruction of one celestial body contributes to the progress of the rest of the universe._

_~Max Wilhelm Meyer, The End of the World_

* * *

><p><strong>Journeys<strong>_  
><em>

Alexis Reilly, investigative reporter and freelance journalist, had never been so miserable in her entire life. Thinking back over the last week and remembered thinking the same thing because her pantyhose was making her sweat, she was almost ashamed. _Look at you now, woman of the world... you can barely walk. _

At first light, she followed her reluctant rescuers down the grassy slope towards Daryl's truck in silence, doing her best not to limp. Merle seemed to despise weakness, or maybe women in general. Daryl seemed to consider her presence a minor annoyance, but didn't show any strong feelings about it one way or another. They both apparently disliked her on general principle, but that was just fine as long as they weren't trying to shoot or eat her. Given present circumstances, she had no other choice but to stay with them.

_I don't know what to do,_ she'd said as Peter lay dying in front of her. _Tell me what to do. _

Since they were kids, he'd always been the one to tell her what to do. Even when she despised him for it as siblings do, he'd been such a strong influence throughout her life she felt as if she was missing a limb without him. Or perhaps a large chunk of her soul. Her heart twisted as she thought of him, the pain almost literally washing through her body and drowning out the physical pain of exhaustion and muscle strain.

_Run_, he'd told her. So that's what she would do. Just run and keep on running until she had nowhere else to go, or until she figured out a better plan.

She stood back and watched as the Dixon brothers pulled the tarp off the truck, glancing around nervously and feeling very exposed out in the open. The town of Harmony lay miles behind them, and the truck was parked so far off the road she could not imagine anyone or anything spotting them. She felt little pain this morning, only a dull numb stiffness in every muscle of her body. She was used to the city, where a ride to every possible destination was available at a moment's notice. Here, everything seemed miles away from anywhere. It was just one of many things she despised about the deep South. The Dixon boys might be perfectly happy to live in the woods and eat dirt, but Alexis was fighting a sudden craving for eggs benedict and orange juice. _Café latte and a croissant. A dozen croissants. Hell, gas station coffee and a stale donut would do._

Merle was up on the back of the truck, eating beef jerky out of its plastic wrapping and unstrapping the motorcycle that was mounted there. The brothers argued briefly about riding together instead of wasting gas by using both vehicles, but in the end the bigger brother won and Daryl extended the ramp so Merle could back the motorcycle down the ground. As he started it up, Alexis jumped at the sudden loud noise and realized that she had no idea if she even had a ride. Peter's deal with Daryl involved getting them out of town, and nothing more. She glanced around again, wondering if she was about to be stranded out in the middle of nowhere.

Daryl glanced back at her as he opened the driver's side door, then got in and started the engine. He backed the truck out of the cover of the trees, then stopped and looked at her through the open window. She couldn't seem to make her mouth move, so she just stared at him blankly as he put it in park, opened the door and swung out, both feet hitting the ground together. She blinked in surprise as he realized he was coming at her fast, and that he had a gun in his right hand. Hunger, pain and stiffness vanished immediately as Daryl Dixon raised the gun and pointed it straight at her head. Her throat closed up around the scream and she threw both hands out in front of her as if to block the bullet.

"Get down," Daryl said when he was within a few feet of her, and fired a split second after the dropped to the ground. The impact of a weapon fired so closely knocked her reeling, and she twisted to look behind her with ears ringing. A single walker was down on the ground, twitching and bleeding. She inhaled sharply as she realized she'd been totally unaware of its approach. Daryl walked up to it and fired a second shot through its head.

"If yer comin' better move now," he said to her, glancing back up the hill. Merle revved the motorcycle's engine loudly, and Alexis scrambled to her feet. She hurried around the back end of the truck and pulled at the passenger door handle. Daryl had already thrown the truck into gear and they were moving before she'd closed her own door. She turned to look back as he gunned the engine, following Merle's lead as he drove across the grassy clearing to what appeared to be a small dirt road. Several more walkers were coming down the hill, one of them falling as gravity worked against it. But speed was something they did not have, and by motorcycle and truck they left them behind very quickly. They reached a paved road after several long, bumpy moments and Alexis finally relaxed slightly as the ride evened out.

"Thank you," she said quietly, but her voice barely worked. Her throat was dry and raspy, and she hadn't even attempted to speak since arriving at Big Rock. Daryl glanced at her, and she saw it written all over his face. He clearly thought she was an idiot, and she resolved at that moment to stop thanking him because he clearly didn't know how to accept it. She also decided that she absolutely was not going to become as dependent on this rude, backwoods jerk as she had been on her brother. Daryl suddenly leaned back and reached into the small space behind the front seat. The unexpected movement made her flinch. In a brief, irrational moment she thought he was going to hit her, but he simply handed her a bottle of water, took one for himself and turned his attention to the road. She started to thank him, then bit it back and gripped the bottle between her knees so she could twist the cap off with her left hand.

"Where did you go?" Alexis asked quietly after about twenty minutes of riding in silence. She'd drank all the water and devoured two protein-filled power bars that tasted like sand and half a bag of trail mix before stopping with a mild sense of guilt. If Daryl meant for the food supplies to last all the way to Atlanta, they certainly wouldn't if she ate like a pig.

"Huh?" he responded, watching the road.

"After you ran from the walkers the other night," she explained.

Daryl didn't answer immediately, just drove with one arm draped over the wheel and the other raised to his mouth, chewing absently on his thumbnail. She'd barely spoken a word since arriving at the top of Big Rock. She hadn't even appeared to be listening when he described what he'd seen back in Harmony, just sat curled up with her knees against her chest looking at the ground. He wasn't a big fan of chatty people in general, and females who talked endlessly about nothing grated on his nerves even more. He wondered if she was attempting to make small talk to fill the silence, and maybe if he just ignored her, she'd stay quiet.

"Post Office," he finally answered. Alexis glanced at him, confused.

"Post Office?" she echoed.

"Broke into the Post Office. It's locked down. Stayed there till mornin."

"We didn't see any of those things when we walked into town," Alexis said, and then yawned hugely, covering her mouth with both hands. Now that the hunger and thirst issues were addressed, sleep was demanding her attention.

"I took y'all the back way," Daryl frowned and peered up ahead, noticing that Merle had slowed down and was pulling to the left to steer around a car parked in the middle of the road. He reduced his own speed and followed the bike's lead as he realized there were even more cars. They woven their way through a dozen or more abandoned cars, and Daryl noticed suitcases left behind, items strung all over the road. Children's toys. Books. Shoes here and there. _Shoes._

He glanced sideways at Alexis' feet, which were pulled up next to her on the seat. She'd taken off her own useless sandals and tossed them off the floor, revealing that soles of her feet were red and blistered from the mad run through the harsh woods. She had already fallen asleep, her head resting against the window and the bandaged and broken right hand cradled in the crook of her left arm. Her hair was dark brown and thick, and it hung around her face looking just as tired as the rest of her. The left knee of her jeans was ripped, and the skin that peeked through was bruised and bloodied from one of her many falls in the woods yesterday. Merle hadn't been too far off when he'd compared her appearance to the dead bear that took a drag behind Daryl's truck so many years ago. Daryl wondered if they could find a hospital operated by living people between here and Atlanta. Not only because she was a mess, but she'd probably be ecstatic to get away from them both.

Merle was waving up ahead, gesturing to the left. Daryl looked, and saw a huddle of walkers on their knees in the road. They were eating something, pushing and shoving for a place around the heap of once-living meat, and Daryl decided he didn't need to guess what it was. One of them looked up as Merle thundered past, then turned to look at the approaching truck.

"God _damn_," Daryl muttered, and reached for the door handle. He pushed the accelerator down and the walker started to rise. But it never made it to its full height, because Daryl snapped the door open, swinging it wide and slammed the walker in the face. He closed it firmly as the walker fell, and the truck bounced slightly as the rear tire ran over its head. Merle flashed a single thumb-up at him and Alexis' head bumped against the window.

"Ow," she mumbled. "What was that?"

"Pothole."

* * *

><p><strong>Atlanta<strong>

As the sun rose and morning turned into day over the quarry just outside of Atlanta, the small group of survivors did their best to take stock of their situation. Dale made himself busy setting up camp as he usually did, extending the tarp over the RV's single door to provide some shade and hauling a few folding chairs outside. Amy and Andrea brewed coffee and tried to create some semblance of breakfast out of the food supplies in the vehicle's small pantry, and Jim busied himself by looking over the camper's engine and examining the failing radiator. Glenn, feeling quite useless, climbed to the top of the RV with a folding chair and binoculars to watch the surrounding area for unwelcome visitors.

Dale took a quick inventory of supplies. The RV was well suited for two or three, but last night was cramped and awkward with five people needing a place to sleep. There was one small tent packed away and the two sleeping bags he had would suffice for Jim and Glenn if they were willing to share. But it was all a moot point once the food ran out. Dale's own hunting skills were minimal at best, and he doubted the others were well schooled in outdoor survival.

_Because that's what we're doing up here. Not camping. Surviving. How did it come to this so quickly?_

"What are we going to do?" Amy asked him as he entered the RV, intending to check the narrow closet near the single bedroom to see what gear he had stored away there. Andrea was attempting to toast the bagels in the stove, and Dale wondered how much gas was in the generator. They'd have no power soon without more.

"I have no idea," he smiled tiredly at her. "But I think we may already be doing it."

"We can't live on bagels forever," Andrea said. "These won't even last though tomorrow." Dale nodded with a sigh. If they were going to stay up here they would have to restock somehow. He knew they could fish, and maybe he could shoot some small game... but of course the need for ammunition would come into play next. He doubted the walkers would make the long journey out of the city any time soon, but the fact remained that the city was exactly where they needed to go for what they needed.

"We'll figure something out," he patted Andrea's shoulder kindly, and she forced a smile at him, perhaps thinking that he was a doddering old fool after all. In the end, Glenn volunteered to slip back to the city alone and bring back whatever he could. He impressed them all with his knowledge of the city and seemed to know exactly where to go. Dale was reluctant to agree, but he never fancied himself much of a leader and let the decision be made by the volunteer himself.

He left after filling up on the breakfast Amy and Andrea prepared, taking with him a bottle of water and the last of the bagels. The day was uneventful after that, and anxiously long. Dale and the girls collected a few plastic jugs and hiked down to the quarry while Jim built a small fire closer to the treeline. With only small pans and buckets, boiling the water for drinking took up the rest of the day, and it was nightfall again when Glenn returned. He wasn't alone this time, and also not on foot.

They'd heard the sound of an engine making its way up the road long before anything came into view, and even with full knowledge that walkers didn't drive, everyone was immediately nervous. When the vehicle came into view, they realized it was followed closely by another, and then another. Glenn had not only successfully traveled into the city and made it out alive, he'd met other survivors on the road and hitched himself a ride. As the younger man bounced out of the lead vehicle, a full-sized station wagon loaded to capacity in the back with camping gear and supplies, Dale smiled and shook his head.

"Something tells me you're going to keep on surprising us," he said. Glenn grinned back at him then gestured back at the people getting out of the cars, all of them looking tired and in varying stages of shock. Dale counted three children and several adults.

"That's Morales, he picked me up just outside of the city," he said. "There's a sporting goods store just up the highway that hasn't been completely looted yet. We should go back tomorrow." He handed Dale a box of ammunition for his rifle with an apologetic smile.

"This was all they had for ammo," he said. "Whoever got there first took anything that shoots." Dale nodded, unsurprised, then went forward to greet the new arrivals.

Over the next few days, more survivors trickled in. Some stayed, others moved on. Those who left were trying to reach loved ones in distant places. The rest had either lost everything and everyone, or were simply tired of being on the move. All of them had stories to tell, although none cared to talk about them in much detail.

* * *

><p>Down the road a bit, in Cynthiana, Kentucky, Shane Walsh had decided that the time for waiting it out was over. If he'd known about the fate of a little town called Harmony, which lay just across the state line in Georgia, he might have made that decision sooner.<p>

"I'm sorry," he said to Lori again, for the fourth time that day. She was riding in the passenger side of his Jeep, watching the world go by in silence. Carl slept in the back seat, but Shane doubted the boy was actually sleeping.

"I didn't want to tell you like that," he said. "Lori... I'm so sorry."

He'd managed to make it to the Grimes home just before the chaos reached their neighborhood, and hustled both her and her son Carl out of the house. They'd taken only what they could carry, but Lori forced him to wait while she grabbed photos and personal items relating to Rick. He held his tongue as she did so, knowing that she wouldn't ever leave without them. It was bad enough that he'd had to blurt out that Rick was dead right there in front of Carl, but she just wasn't listening when he told her they had to leave.

She nodded quickly at him now, her lips tight and tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She glanced back at Carl as if to assure herself that he was still there, then wiped the tears from her face and stared out at the passing trees again.

"Where are we going?" she asked, although her tone suggested it didn't matter too much at that moment.

"Atlanta," he said.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for all the reviews, everyone. This chapter is sort of a space filler, and not very exciting... yawn. But now it's time to really get the ball rolling. Ready?


	8. Drop Dead Fred

**Drop Dead Fred**

Driving from the Southeast Georgia to the more central location of Atlanta proved to be more difficult than anyone had originally thought, even with the apparent apocalypse taking place all around them. The main highways were jammed with abandoned cars, and after making several fruitless attempts to maneuver through, the Dixons decided to risk the smaller back roads, which would stretch the trip from hours to days. On the third day, Daryl eyed the gas gauge nervously as they passed a road sign announcing that they were fifty miles from Macon, which was a city somewhat smaller than Atlanta but a city nonetheless. He wondered if they should try stopping there first.

Alexis sat quietly for the most part, constantly checking her cell phone in the hopes they might drive through an area with a useable signal. When Merle waved back at them up ahead, pointing at a gas station sign, she sighed and put the phone away.

"I can't believe nobody around here has ever heard of GPS. Or maps. Don't you have a map of some kind? Any kind?" She leaned forward and opened the small glove compartment again, as if a map might have mysteriously materialized there during the night.

"Gas station up ahead," Daryl said, steering right and following Merle as he led the way towards the sign. "If the pumps are off, we're going to be walking soon." Alexis said nothing, but Daryl could almost feel the little jolt of fear that went through her at those words. They'd already spent two nights camping far enough off the road to avoid attracting walkers, but she'd slept in the truck both nights, locking the doors and staying out of sight. The only time she left the truck at all was when nature called, and Daryl took a small amount of amusement from the fact that it humiliated her to no end to ask him to stop for a piss.

As luck would have it, the pumps weren't off, and the gas station lay on a small dirt road accompanied only by a general store that seemed to double as a local watering hole. Merle parked the bike on one side of the pumps, and Daryl pulled the truck up on the other. Alexis pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, looking out the front window. Merle walked out to the edge of the small parking lot and stood quietly for a moment, listening and looking up and down the road. Several signs pointed out destinations in either direction, but there seemed to be no real population for miles. Daryl got out of the truck and looked towards the store for a moment, listening intently. After a few long moments, both brothers seemed satisfied that no immediate danger lay here, and Merle walked back to the pumps and started filling up the motorcycle's tank.

Daryl walked around to the back and grabbed the two empty ten-gallon gas cans in the back storage and set them on the ground. Hopefully with full tanks and backup, they would make it to Atlanta. If not...

"Might be maps inside," he said to Alexis through her window as he came around to her side to fill the tank. She nodded, but made no move to get out of the truck as she looked at the building with obvious worry. Daryl shook his head and flipped up the lever on the pump, relieved to hear the gasoline start rushing through the hose.

"We can prob'ly stay here tonight," Merle suggested. "Seems safe 'nuff long as we stay quiet." Daryl looked at the building doubtfully, then glanced back at Alexis. Merle snorted and laughed once.

"Need her permission? Damn, boy. Jus' leave her in the truck. Useless anyway."

Alexis bristled at this. During the last few days she'd grown used to Daryl's stony exterior, and it didn't bother her a bit that he didn't like her much. At least he kept it to himself, but Merle never missed the opportunity to belittle anyone be it his brother, herself or anyone else he'd known throughout his colorful existence. And if there was no opportunity, he would create one. Merle finished fueling the bike and walked over to the gas station's office, peering inside the dirty windows and moving around the side. Alexis cast one more look around the immediate area, then took a deep breath and opened her door. She paused to slip her sandals on and then got out of the truck, closing the door behind her. She glanced towards the store, then at Daryl, who was leaning against the truck and not watching her.

_Maps. Right. Okay. I can do that._ She took a few steps forward, thinking there might be something stronger than aspirin inside for the painful throbbing in her right hand.

"Hey," Daryl called, and she paused to look back at him. "You right handed or left handed?" She frowned a little, then held up her left hand. Daryl walked towards her, reaching around behind him and pulling out the gun he carried tucked into the back of his pants. He handed it to her, and she took it without thinking.

"Safety's on," he said. "Don't fire it unless you have to. Run first." She stared at him, then at the gun in her hand. It was awkward and heavy, and she was sure she'd probably shoot herself just holding the thing. She crossed the short distance to the general store quickly, looking left and right nervously. Merle had disappeared around the side of the gas station's small garage, probably checking out the back of the building. She climbed the three steps to the door and glanced back at Daryl. He was bent over the gas cans now, filling one of them from the pump and again not watching her. After peeking through the windows and not seeing anything moving around, she went inside and closed the door behind her quietly.

It took a few anxious moments for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the store's unlit interior, and her heart was pounding so loud she was sure that if any of those _things_ were inside, they'd hear it. But she could hear nothing other than the wind whistling quietly through a vent somewhere high up in the rafters, and soon her heart began to slow to a more normal pace. The rank odor of spoiled food floated in the air, noticeable but not overpowering. Two refrigerated units stood against a back wall, and she spotted cans of beer, soda and bottled water in one. The other held various dairy and perishables, and she knew she wouldn't be opening that one. She turned to the left and quickly looked over the register area, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, then started walking slowly down the narrow aisle of shelves. Grocery items, stale bread, a few cans of soup, candy bars, chips, batteries, duct tape, magazines... she scanned the shelves quickly as she walked until she came to a selection of aspirin, colorful kids' band-aids and bottles of cold medicine. She tucked the gun into the top of her jeans and grabbed the largest bottle of aspirin she saw, then turned to look at the shelf behind her. Toothbrushes, toothpaste, hairbrushes and - _hallelujah _- bars of soap. _Yes, please_.

She helped herself to a few things, wondering idly if she was looting, then rounded the end of the aisle and looked over the right side of the store. Three small tables with two chairs each, a pool table, old-fashioned jukebox in the corner and a counter in the corner with a large pizza oven behind it. A sudden craving for pepperoni almost overwhelmed her. With no power in the building, nothing perishable would be safe to eat, but she'd spotted several cans of ravioli that would do just fine. She glanced out the window overlooking the parking lot and saw Daryl lifting the now-full gas cans into the back of the truck. He looked at the door she'd gone through for a moment, as if considering following her inside, and she hoped he wouldn't. She wanted to brush her teeth and for some reason that small need demanded privacy. He didn't follow her, though, just closed the back gate of the truck and headed in the direction Merle had gone.

Alexis took a moment to look behind the counter of the pizza preparation area, seeing nothing but a wide prep sink, a small gas stove and paper plates scattered on the floor. Then she headed into the back, hoping to find a bathroom with running water. This place seemed isolated enough to have its own well, and hopefully it wasn't dependent on any town for anything more than electricity. It was easy enough to find, a single narrow hallway leading to the back fire exit housed the building's only bathroom. The door was closed, and she pressed her ear against it for a moment. The whistling wind sound she'd heard came from within, and she guessed that a window must have been left open. She also heard voices just beyond, Merle and Daryl talking behind the building. Satisfied that she was alone, she turned the knob and very carefully opened the door, willing it to move silently on its old hinges. She looked inside and saw a single sink straight ahead, and two stalls to the left. There was a very small window beyond the stalls, and as she had guessed it was open several inches. Light streamed through, making the small room brighter than the rest of the building. She pushed the door open the rest of the way and went inside, heading straight for the sink and setting her unpurchased items down on the counter, and the gun as well. There was no mirror over the sink, only a wooden sign that had been hand carved and painted very meticulously.

_"Wail, for the day of the Lord is near; as destruction from the Almighty it will come! ~ Isaiah 13:6_"

She read it twice, then shook her head and turned the cold water handle. Nothing happened, then water spurted hard once and a loud, creaky groan issued up from the pipes under the sink. The groan turned into a pounding rattle as air fought to escape with the water and Alexis turned it off quickly, startled by the sink's violent reaction. _Okay...toothpaste and spit works, too. _

As she was biting at the plastic wrapped around the toothbrush, a shadow flickered on the wall as if something had crossed in front of the light streaming through the window beyond the stalls. She froze in place, glancing toward the window. The closest stall blocked her view, but she heard a soft shuffling sound and wondered if one of the Dixons was peeking in the window. _Peeping toms... Are you kidding me? Where's a fire extinguisher when I need one?_ The shuffling stopped, and her heart leaped into her throat as something banged loudly on the wall of the furthest stall. She dropped the toothbrush and grabbed for the gun, fumbling for the safety as the distinctive throaty moan of a walker reached her ears just as it came into view. It was once an older man, heavy around the middle and wearing a bloodstained apron over the tattered remains of a blue T Shirt with a name tag that said "Fred."

_Run first,_ Daryl had said. But it had already exited the stall and was heading towards her, blocking her escape from the narrow room. She clicked the safety off as it grasped at her with rotting hands. It was too close for her to fire, rancid, stinking breath right in her face. She gave a mighty shove, horrified that the thing had actually touched her, and it landed against the sink before falling to the floor. She kicked it once in the head and bolted for the door, but the walker moved faster than she thought it could and grabbed at her ankle as she ran past it. As she crashed to the floor, her left elbow jarred painfully and the gun skidded out of her reach.

"That bike makes so much damn noise walkers can hear us coming for miles," Daryl argued. "Jus' get it up on the back of the truck 'till we get to Atlanta." He stood watching the line of trees several hundred feet behind the station as Merle crouched next to a small hand-operated water pump, splashing water up onto his face and washing the grime from the road off.

"Shit," he mumbled into his hands. "Stupid slow bastards. Takes 'em an hour to go ten feet. By the time they hear us, we're already gone. Besides," he stood up and smirked at Daryl.

"Yer girl don' like me much, I doubt she'd wanna sit on my lap all the way."

"Nobody likes you much. And she _ain't _my girl." Daryl said scornfully.

"Well then what the hell is she taggin' along for?" Merle demanded. "If yer not gettin' any pussy, what in the hell is the point -" he stopped short as a single gunshot rang out from inside the building.

"Jumpin' Jesus Christ," Merle moaned. "She done shot herself in the foot now, ain't she?" He followed Daryl, who was already running around to the front of the building, pausing only to snatch his crossbow out of the back of the truck. Merle went through the door first, his own Glock 9 millimeter leading the way.

"No," Daryl hissed as Merle cocked the weapon. "If they're around, they'll hear."

"If they're around, they already have," Merle hissed back. "Where you at, girl?" He called loudly, turning to the left to look behind the counter. Daryl walked down the aisle to the right, crossbow locked and loaded.

"Here," they both heard her shaky call and Daryl spotted her on the floor, sitting with her back against a jukebox, the gun held in both hands and pointing at something across the room. He turned to point the crossbow in that direction but backed towards her as Merle came forward. A walker lay face down and unmoving in the hallway entrance, limbs sprawled unnaturally. Merle stepped closer and took a good look, weapon ready. He nudged it with his foot and then nodded at Daryl when it didn't react.

Daryl lowered the crossbow and crouched down in front of Alexis. Her face was stark white, eyes wider than he'd seen yet. _Scared out of her fuckin' mind_, he realized, then saw that her finger was still on the trigger. She was also completely covered in blood, and Daryl grimaced as he guessed that it wasn't hers. He put his hand over the top of the gun and eased it out of her hands.

"Y'okay?" he asked her quietly. She was breathing, short rapid breaths and staring straight ahead."Hey," Daryl poked at her leg with the butt of the gun, and she jumped, her eyes jerking to his face in surprise. After a brief moment, she nodded in response to his question.

"I got brains on me," she said, then turned her head to throw up behind the jukebox. Daryl stood up and took a quick step back.

"Better out than in," Merle said, and headed over to the beer cooler.

* * *

><p>Alexis' stomach was empty after the first hurl, but she continued to retch and dry-heave behind the jukebox for a few minutes. Daryl guessed that this was alone time for her and did a quick search of the rest of the building. He walked down the small hallway and found an office beyond the bathroom, which was empty save for a small desk and a old, worn-looking couch. Merle followed him inside with a warm beer in hand and started rifling through the drawers. He found a six-shooter revolver with five bullets inside and set that on top of the desk, then dug further as Daryl went to check the back door.<p>

After pocketing a large wad of cash he found in an unlocked strongbox, Merle came upon something else that made him smile widely, a small brown vial with a screw cap containing several ounces of white powder. He opened it, dipped a finger inside and dabbed it on his tongue, smiling even wider. Fred was officially Merle's best friend now. Merle closed it up and pocketed it, then took the revolver and went back out into the store.

Daryl was back outside, checking the surrounding area for any sign of more walkers. Merle glanced towards the jukebox, but she wasn't there. He heard the sound of water running and went over to the pizza counter to find Alexis scrubbing her hands, arms and face in the wide, deep prep sink. The walker's head had almost literally exploded, and he guessed she'd shot it at very close range. She glanced up at him as he leaned against the wall and drank his beer.

"It was in the bathroom," she said quietly. "I tried to run but it grabbed me." The walker's blood was almost black, resembling thick slime rather than anything that would come out of a living person, and she scrubbed at it with dish soap and a brush she'd found on the rack above the sink. Daryl came back inside carrying the sleeping bags and a few more things from his truck, and set everything on the floor next to the crossbow.

"Think we're okay," he said to Merle. "That one must have been stuck in here. Nothin' else moving out there." Merle grunted and drained the rest of the beer. This time they were lucky. Next time crazy girl started shooting the place up, they might not be. He nodded at the walker in the hallway and gestured for Daryl to follow him.

"Let's get it outside," he said. "If we're stayin' here tonight I ain't sharing a room with Drop Dead Fred." Daryl glanced at Alexis, who had finished scrubbing walker brains off herself and was now leaning on the sink, her head down as if she was going to vomit again.

She heard them talking, but didn't fully register the words. The last thing she remembered was kicking desperately at the walker as it grabbed onto her legs and opened its mouth with a snarl. One bite. _One fucking bite _is all it would take and her life would be over. Daryl would shoot her in the head with an arrow and leave her behind. She wasn't entirely sure if that was fact, but she didn't think it was far from the truth. She'd managed to get free and scrambled on all fours towards where the gun had landed. The walker was on her again almost immediately, and she'd aimed for its head and pulled the trigger with her eyes closed. She'd been too terrified to scream when it collapsed on top of her, leaking all kinds of disgusting fluids all over her. Somehow she'd rolled it off and scooted backwards on her butt until she reached the wall just before the Dixon boys came plowing through the door. She hadn't realized until now that it took them less than a minute to get to her as soon as they realized she was in danger.

She came out of the small kitchen and into the main store as the brothers dragged the walker down the hallway and out the back door. A rack of tacky souvenirs stood near the door, and she spotted hats, T shirts and hooded sweatshirts. Without a second thought, she stripped off her own shirt, which was now so foul the original color couldn't be seen, and tossed it on the floor as she walked towards the rack. She flipped through the shirts slowly, and selected the first one that didn't look big enough for her to wear as a dress. She shook it out and pulled it over her head, then gasped as sudden pain shot through her right hand and straight up her arm. She'd caught her injured fingers on the sleeve of the shirt and the pain was so strong she could only stand there for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish. The adrenaline wore off at that moment, and she felt completely helpless in this minor predicament. Just before giving into the urge to cry, she sensed rather than heard movement behind her and froze instinctively, her mind rushing back to the moment when Daryl had taken the gun from her.

But living hands touched her shoulders, then one of them gently disentangled the shirt from her right hand while the other helped her left find its sleeve. She felt her knees shake in sudden relief as the hands guided the shirt down into place without touching her in any unseemly manner at all. One of them rested lightly on her shoulder for the space of a heartbeat and she stood still , not sure why he was still standing there. But when she turned around to face him, Daryl was already walking away.

When Merle came back inside, he took one look at Alexis' new attire and started laughing. She didn't get the joke, and neither did Daryl until Merle elbowed him and pointed at her shirt. She looked down at herself and pulled the shirt out straight so she could read the lettering upside down.

_"I'll get all the sleep I need when I'm dead."_


	9. Uninvited

_Hush little baby don't say a word_  
><em>And never mind that noise you heard<em>  
><em>It's just the beast under your bed<em>  
><em>In your closet in your head<em>  
><em>Exit light<em>  
><em>Enter night<em>  
><em>Take my hand<em>  
><em>We're off to Never Never Land...<em>

**Uninvited**

_Dreams. They always come at night, and never by invitation. Only in dreams are we at our best, and our worst. Only in dreams are we free to soar, run like the wind, and to die repeatedly. Dreams are images, ideas, emotions and sensations. Whether they be response to neural stimulation, electrical impulses, reflections of the soul, predictions of the future, memories or messages from the dead... they always come at night. And never by invitation. You cannot force yourself to dream any more than you can prevent it from happening._

"_It will be all right," I told them. "I'll keep you safe. I won't let anything hurt you." But I'm a liar. A liar of the worst kind. We ran when they came for us. When they came for us without even knowing they were coming for us. They don't know, or think, or understand. And they don't dream. Do they dream? Is un-death nothing more than a dream, endless and terrible? Maybe the dead dream of being alive again, and it's the knowing they can't that drives them to destroy._

_We didn't know, so we ran. We ran and we hid, but they always came for us. When they came at night, as uninvited and unwelcome as dreams, they took them front me. Our boys snatched from our arms and devoured before our eyes. Flesh, eyes, hair and bone... all gone, ripped away. I tried to make her run with me. Such an insane thought... if I only could keep her alive, we could start over again. The boys were dead. But she wouldn't run. She couldn't. She went back for them, to try to take them away from the dead. Screaming their names and mine, begging me to help. Begging me to make everything all right again.  
><em>

_It may look like tomorrow, but in dreams it's always yesterday. __Memories __don't stay in the attic where you've stored them, and the people that once filled you up and made you feel alive reappear in dreams to remind you. They always remind you: Sight is a liar, and now is not real. Always trust your memory. This is the last dream. The last time I will close my eyes and see them. Cynthia and my boys. Please, God... if you are God... let this be the last time I see them. The last time they remind me that I ran away while the dead were eating them. That I am alive because they are dead. I can't look at them anymore. Not my family, or the others. _

_Trapped in a life that has become worse than death. I'm already one of the dead, I'm just like them. I walk, I eat, and I dream. I continue to breathe and accept my punishment. Just one more dream. One last dream of being in this world, one last dream of losing hope, one last dream of living in fear, one last dream of wanting to be dead._

_But others are coming. Strong, beautiful and terrible. Bows and arrows. Angels? No. Angels don't smoke. Angels don't hate. But I'm sure they dream.  
><em>

_I'll get all the sleep I need when I'm dead..._

"Jim," The voice came to him as if from a great distance. He pushed it away, not wanting to dream anymore, but not wanting to be awake either. Because awake meant alive, and only the living have to dream.

_"Jim,"_ a hand touched him this time, shook him gently and forced him to open his eyes. Jacqui. Thin and black-skinned with beautifully exotic eyes, she frowned down at him with compassion and worry radiating outward.

"You're dreaming... wake up, Jim."

Jim woke, and gave her hand a reassuring pat. The universal _I'm okay _gesture. Jacqui had arrived with T-Dog, having escaped from Atlanta with nothing but the clothes on their backs. She was a sweet, faithful woman who believed in God and drew strength from within her own hopeful soul. And she cared. She cared for the strangers she met and those yet to come.

As she smiled and withdrew from his tent with a nod, Jim wished he could care about something. Anything. Surviving wasn't living, anyone in the mountain camp could attest to that. But it wasn't dying, either. Surrounded by people who wanted to live, Jim felt oddly trapped. He couldn't live with himself any longer, but neither could he bear the thought of risking the lives of sweet Jacqui, or Dale, Glenn... Andrea and her sister Amy. So he would stay for now, do his part and wait for death to approach him.

"Dale," he called as he left his tent and strolled over to where the older man was struggling with the RV's radiator hose. "Lemme do that before you break it, old man," he teased lightly. Dale chuckled, and the two of them pondered over how to make things keep on running long after they should have given up.

* * *

><p>The apocalypse was either the best time to get drunk, or the worst. Alexis was in no state to decide which, mostly because she wasn't quite ready to wake up to make a decision about it. The state of being drunk was apparently not a foreign concept for the Dixon brothers, but for Alexis it was a rare thing meant for special occasions such as weddings, New Year's Eve or Fourth of July picnics. She'd attended plenty during her life, but never had she drank straight Southern Comfort from a bottle. Certainly not a bottle shared by two rednecks from Georgia. She'd even stopped wiping it off before taking a drink by the third or fourth pass.<p>

After the Walking Fred incident, the trio had set up camp inside the store, using the tables and chairs to block the front door against any possible intruders. The two back doors were both standard fire doors that could only be opened from the inside, and the only large window had old-fashioned storm shutters on the outside, which Daryl secured tightly before they barricaded themselves inside.

The small stove in the back was a gas stove, and surprisingly operational, but none of them wanted to risk cooking anything that might attract unwanted visitors by smell. Alexis doubted walkers would be interested in chicken noodle soup or canned ravioli, and argued for a hot meal. It was an argument easily won, since none of them had eaten anything but beef jerky and protein bars for several days. They'd be leaving in the morning anyway, so Alexis heated up four cans cans of each on the stove as quickly as possible. They ate by the dim light of a small oil lamp with the wick turned down to almost nothing, and Alexis began to feel human again soon after. But when Daryl opened the bottle of Southern Comfort, she didn't hesitate or hold back. She felt somewhat invincible perhaps, having literally looked death in the eye and lived to throw up about it... but her smaller frame and lacking experience was less suited for straight bourbon and she was solidly drunk in the space of an hour.

In only a few days, Alexis had learned mostly by eavesdropping that Merle was eight years older than Daryl, and their mother had died when Daryl was a baby. Merle was raising Daryl himself by the time the younger Dixon turned six. Their father was, as much as she could gather, a raging alcoholic asshole who beat them both regularly whether drunk or sober. Neither of them made it past middle school. Their father hopped in and out of jail for years and spent his free time chasing women, selling drugs, getting drunk and beating up his kids. When Daryl was barely a teenager and old enough to run away from home, Merle joined the military and served a single tour before earning himself a dishonorable discharge for punching out an officer's teeth. Soon after, their father killed two men in a bar fight and went to the state prison for life. Merle sold the house he and Daryl both hated anyway and with the meager profit bought himself a motorcycle. He then took up his father's biker habits and did some time for misdemeanor drug offenses, and Daryl served six months himself for stealing a car.

The brothers seemed to open up the more they drank, and Alexis sat cross-legged on a sleeping bag listening in a sort of morbid fascination as they traded stories of their childhood, insulted each other, exchanged a few punches and told dirty stories that made her flinch in embarrassment. Merle's casual use of racial slurs such as "taco-bender" and much worse made her grind her teeth in an effort to stay silent. She wasn't sure how many more "dead negro" jokes she could handle, either. But Merle ended the party in his usual tactless fashion by bringing up the recently-deceased Rosie in a very unpleasant light. Daryl fell silent and Alexis could feel the brief alcohol-induced happy being sucked right out of the room. She'd already suspected that Daryl's angry redneck exterior was more a result of his environment than any true nastiness, but Merle was a different story altogether, and not one she was sure she wanted to read in its entirety. She didn't complain when Merle got up, swaying drunkenly, and made his way down the back hall to the small office to pass out on the couch.

The rest of the night slid up and downhill in a blur as she and Daryl finished off the bottle. Her last recollection of the roller-coaster ride of a day was that he'd asked her about Boston, and she ended up talking about Peter instead. She hoped she hadn't cried like a baby, but she suspected she probably did. Her own life had not been easy, but compared to the hellish conditions that had produced the Dixon brothers, it was a god-damned luxury. She didn't remember which one of them had passed out first, and as morning crept up upon them she supposed it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was safe for the moment, barricaded inside a general store in the middle of nowhere. The night had grown cold, but the Dixons' camping gear combined with the shelter of four walls and a roof was more than enough to keep things from getting too unpleasant.

Dim daylight peeked through the shutters, and Alexis opened one eye, lifting her hand into view to examine the fresh bandage which had been expertly wrapped. She'd swallowed six aspirin with the soup and ravioli feast and it had done its part in lessening the pain in her right hand. As she looked closer, she saw that the two broken fingers had been straightened and splinted. She couldn't remember doing that, and it seemed like something that would have hurt tremendously. Alcohol does have its purposes, she decided. She opened her other eye, rubbed both with her left hand and stretched with a long, luxurious yawn. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the warmth just behind her, vaguely aware that it was breathing, and that somewhere nearby there was water running.

Wait a minute... _breathing? _Her eyes flew open and she looked down at the arm draped around her waist, hand pressed flat against her belly, and she realized that the sound of breathing was accompanied by the sensation of air blowing rhythmically on the back of her neck.

"Son of a BITCH!" She said loudly, and scrambled in a mad fury to get out of the tangle of sleeping bag, arms and her own hair. Her elbow struck something behind her, a nose or chin, and Daryl awoke with a grunt and a curse on his lips as she sprang to her feet.

"What are you doing?" she shouted, glaring down furiously at him. He blinked up at her in surprise, which faded quickly to annoyance. "The fuck you hollerin' about?" he said blearily. Alexis gaped at him in absolute fury, then yanked at the sleeping bag until he rolled out of it. He thumped an elbow hard on the floor.

"Gah! Jesus, woman what th'hell is the matter with you?"

"You asshole!" She shrieked. "What did you do, wait until I passed out? Of all the low-life, backwoods country dirtbags..." she picked up one of his boots and threw it at him, making him duck and cover his head with an arm. She dove for the second boot, but he moved faster and kicked it out of her way.

"It was colder than a well-digger's ass in here last night, crazy bitch!" He shouted. "You said so yerself!"

"A well-digger's ass?" she shouted back. "What the hell does that even mean? I swear to God, Dixon if you _did _anything while I was sleeping..." she hesitated as his face abruptly turned red, then purple as he realized what she was thinking. Merle could be heard somewhere in the back, singing off key and a little bit too loud.

"Get over yerself!" Daryl snarled angrily. "I wouldn't touch yer skinny ass if ya paid me." He stood up and glared at her, making a point of looking down at her fully-clothed body. She glared back and snatched the sleeping bag up so it was covering her from her chest to the floor. His rage outmatched hers, and she took a reflexive step back as he took one forward and bent to retrieve the boot just out of her reach. In the awkward silence that followed, Alexis went from angry to nervous to downright ashamed in the space of a minute.

"You were cold," Daryl said, the purple in his face fading quickly as he turned around to find his other boot. He reached out abruptly and snatched the sleeping bag from her and laid it flat on the floor. The bathroom door banged open and Merle came down the hallway, still singing terribly.

_Last night downtown I was drinking the booze_  
><em>Like it was going out of style<em>  
><em>My whole head got light I lost my eyesight<em>  
><em>I ain't been that drunk in awhile<em>  
><em>Along about 1 I spotted a queen<em>  
><em>And I started to make my move<em>  
><em>Aw, she was believing every line I was laying<em>  
><em>Lord I was just too cool<em>  
><em>Well I thought I died and gone to heaven<em>  
><em>But lord did I look like a fool<em>  
><em>Last night I came in at two with a ten<em>  
><em>But at ten I woke up with a two.<em>

"Mornin' honey," he gloated at Alexis. "I aired up the tires on the truck," he said to Daryl. "Soon as y'all are done pillow-talkin' we should git on the road. It's rainin' so I loaded the bike on the back." His eyes were wide and his voice too loud, and Daryl frowned at him suspiciously. He was just too damned cheerful, even for Merle. Daryl rolled the sleeping bags up and collected their gear as Alexis disappeared into the bathroom to compose herself. Or maybe she just wanted to not listen to Merle's obnoxious singing and laughing at random lyrics as he hauled the remaining cans of soda from the now-warm cooler and stuffed them in a backpack.

_I've got 20/20 vision when I ain't drinking_  
><em>But lord when I do I lose<em>  
><em>I ain't never gone to bed with an uglier woman<em>  
><em>But I sure woke up with a few<em>  
><em>Last night I came in at two with a ten<em>  
><em>But at ten I woke up with a two.<em>  
><em>Now you may laugh<em>  
><em>But if you've got the cash<em>  
><em>I'll bet you ten to one you have too<em>...

Merle took the stash of sodas out to the truck, whistling now that the song was over, and Alexis emerged from the bathroom, barefoot and carrying her broken sandals. She said not a single word to Daryl, but picked up one of the two rolled sleeping bags and his crossbow. He crossed the room towards her and reached for it. She handed it to him without a word, and he took it, then handed her a pair of boots tied together at the laces.

"Country don't mean dirtbag, sweetheart," he growled. She opened her mouth to reply, but he walked away without a backwards glance, heading outside to the truck.

She looked at the old, worn footwear as she followed him quietly. They were boys' boots, smaller than the ones he wore but still bigger than her own feet. _He probably wore them when he was younger. _She hurried outside to catch up with him, noticing that Merle had climbed into the driver's seat of the truck. Daryl was glaring at him as he loaded everything into the back.

"Daryl," Alexis said hesitantly. He looked at her sharply, then took the sleeping bag from her and tossed it in the back with the others.

"Forget it," he said. She bit her lip and followed him as he moved around to the back and closed the tailgate with a slight bang.

"Please," she said. "I just want to -"

"Apologize," he finished. "Right. Well, don' want ya to. Cuz then I gotta act all humble-like and accept. So don't." He walked around to the driver's side and opened the door, ordering Merle out of the truck. Alexis exhaled hard and got in on the passenger side as Merle got out to argue with him. She watched the road ahead, deep in thought as the brothers argued. Daryl seemed to think Merle shouldn't be driving for reasons she didn't quite get, and she honestly didn't care. She knew Daryl had the keys, and unless Merle planned to beat them out of him he wasn't getting them. Movement up ahead caught her attention, and she leaned forward to get a better look, then sighed heavily and crawled across the seat to the driver's side window.

"Excuse me," she said loudly, and they both turned to glare at her. She pointed at the road up ahead, where several walkers could be seen heading in their direction. "I hate to interrupt, but if we don't move soon, they're going to surround us."

She slid back to the passenger side as Daryl muttered a curse under his breath and opened the driver's side door. She expected him to let Merle in before him so he could slide over, but the older man jogged around the front of the truck, shouting a good morning at the approaching walkers.

_Oh no..._ she bit back a protest as Merle climbed in on her side, pushing her over on the seat as Daryl got in. Both brothers slammed the door at once and Daryl started the engine. Merle smiled at her, his face only inches away and draped an arm over the back of the seat as the truck moved forward. Daryl steered around the walkers, clipping one with the right front fender as they pulled away from the gas station and back onto the road. _I'm in Hell,_ Alexis thought to herself as Merle started to sing again.

_Honey, do you love as good as you look?_  
><em>Can you satisfy your man, like your body says you can?<em>  
><em>Judging from the cover, I'd love to read the book<em>  
><em>Honey, do you love as good as you look?<em>  
><em>If you could read my mind, you might blush blood-red<em>  
><em>But then again you might come over here instead<em>  
><em>I see they brought your check and soon you're bound to go<em>  
><em>If I don't make my move right now, I may never know...<em>

"Jesus, Merle," Daryl moaned. "Will you just shut the hell up?"

"Jus' tryin' to ease the tension, brother," Merle said lightly, putting emphasis on the word tension. Alexis frowned and scooted away a couple inches as Merle tugged on her hair. He was so wired and jittery, Alexis wondered how many sodas he'd drank while they were sleeping. She looked behind the seat at Daryl's crossbow then slid even closer to him and swatted at Merle's wandering hand as if it was a fly.

"Will you shoot me, please?" she asked quietly. Merle was looking out the window and humming to himself. Daryl shot him a _look_ and then shook his head and leaned forward a bit, pulling a roadmap out of his back pocket.

"No," he sighed as he handed it to her. "But I might shoot him."

* * *

><p><em>Song Lyrics: Metallica, Kenny Chesney, Bellamy Brothers<em>

****A/N**: **Thank you to ErisandDysnomia, Websterjude, GingerGidget, luveskane, murphstheman, viktorskrumpet, synethesiac, pitbullsrok, Tenderloin Baby, PlaneJane21, JoanieNobody, Rickii101, and Lucy Freebird for the kind reviews and feedback. It always makes me smile to read your comments!**  
><strong>


	10. Brothers

_**A/N: **__whew. This one was rough. Thanks for the feedback, guys. It helped me get to where I wanted to be on this chapter.__ And no, I will not be killing off Merle. We need him for Season 2. :) _

_**Warning:**__ graphic violence involving children ahead. This story has an M rating for a reason._

* * *

><p><strong>Brothers<strong>

Two days later, Daryl's truck broke down. Whether it was good luck or bad that they were on one of the many back roads with no sort of civilization for miles was a difficult thing to determine. Good because it meant there were no walkers in short range, bad because it meant a long walk to get anywhere. And once they reached "anywhere," there was no guarantee that this would solve the problem.

Merle stood to the side of the road, watching and listening as Daryl cursed colorfully at the old truck's engine, one foot up on the bumper and the entire top half of his body almost swallowed up by the raised hood. They'd already determined that the fan belt was broken and the radiator was leaking steadily, but Daryl seemed determined to do something about it with his bare hands anyway.

Merle lit one of the cigarettes from the pack he'd taken from Alexis' backpack, not caring if she noticed. She'd been without nicotine for a day, believing she'd forgotten them back at the last stop. It had rained a steady downpour for the last day and a half, forcing the three of them to share close quarters with her irritability and bitchy attitude. The motorcycle had no problems, aside from low gas. But Merle didn't say what he figured Daryl ought to know anyway, that it would get two to Atlanta easily. Not three. As far as Merle was concerned, three was not company and she wasn't included. Unless of course she wanted to make it worth his while.

She was getting out of the truck now as Daryl's cursing reached whole new levels of profane. Merle smiled and waggled his fingers at her as he exhaled a long plume of smoke. If her eyes were guns, he'd be dead from the glare of bullets. For a moment he thought she was going to confront him, but she turned away from him with a shake of her head and walked around to where Daryl's ass was hanging out of the truck.

"What?" he shouted angrily as she coughed to get his attention. She was holding one of the road maps in her hand, and seemed to think she knew something all of a sudden. Merle snorted and walked over to them, taking the last drag and flicking it to the ground at her feet. She looked down at it, thinking exactly what he'd hoped she would.

"Git outta there," Merle said, and hauled him out by the back of his pants. "You ain't gonna get that heap running. Needs a fan belt and a patch, and unless you got both up yer ass, were shit outta luck." Daryl emerged with an angry face and engine grease streaked up both arms. He slammed the hood, kicked the fender and then paced back in forth in front of the truck for a few minutes, looking up and down the road.

"Goddammit," he finally said, and wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "How far are we from Atlanta?" he asked abruptly, turning to Alexis.

"Just over twenty miles," she said, and Daryl cursed under his breath again. Too far to walk safely, but an easy drive for any vehicle that ran even barely decently. He looked back towards the truck, and Merle knew he was looking at the motorcycle and thinking the same thing he was only moments ago.

"We're close enough to Atlanta and Macon, there are plenty of towns between them," Alexis continued. "There has to be somewhere we can get the parts..."

"Right," Merle said, his tone mocking. "And then we walk all the way back here, fix the truck and just hop right back on the road?"

"What about the motorcycle?" Daryl said. "We could take it back to that town we just passed and see what's there."

"Sure," Merle shrugged. "So who gets to stay here alone?" They both looked at him, then at each other, then back at him. Neither volunteered. Merle laughed out loud and headed around to the back of the truck.

"I'll stay," said Alexis to Daryl quietly. "I can lock the doors and wait in the truck. Just don't be gone too long."

"Don't be stupid," he said harshly. "Maybe walkers can't open doors, but what if we can't _get_ back? We could be walkin' into a damn hornet's nest and then yer stuck here with a truck that don't run." He paced back and forth a couple more times, watching as Merle dropped the tailgate and climbed up onto the truck. He doubted Merle would come back for her, but he knew he'd come back for him.

"Well, then the same goes for you, doesn't it?" Alexis argued. Daryl threw up both hands in an _I don't know _gesture. "Nothing against your brother but if you think I'm getting on the back of that bike, you're out of your mind," she said.

"And if you think he'll _let_ you, yer outta yours," Daryl shot back.

"Got that right," Merle mumbled under his breath. He watched the two of them argue as he unstrapped the bike, his own annoyance rising steadily. She'd done nothing but slow them down and cause problems, and he hated that Daryl hadn't ditched her back in Harmony. Here was the perfect opportunity. Give her a gun, some food and cut her loose. They didn't need her. Besides, they hadn't seen a single walker in over a day now, and this morning a helicopter had flown overhead, heading straight for Atlanta. Good sign. A _very_ good sign. She'd come this far, she could make it a little further on her own. Now, if he could just get dumbass Daryl on the back of the bike... Merle smirked and shook his head. It wasn't going to happen and he knew it. He'd have to go get what they needed for the truck himself, and they'd wait here, all nice and cozy. They were coming towards him now, and Merle chuckled. They'd had to discuss it first, obviously, but Merle already knew his brother would choose her safety first. Daryl couldn't ignore those unable to defend themselves, no matter how much he denied it. Their own shithead of a father had seen to that. Didn't matter one bit if he liked her or not, he'd watch her back as long as she was along for the ride. The city princess had struck Daryl's weakest spot without even knowing it.

Daryl came around and pulled the ramp down, and Merle started up the bike, then backed it down carefully onto the road. He leaned over and snatched the map from Alexis and looked at it briefly, then tucked it away inside his vest. Daryl handed him the last fully-loaded magazine for his Glock.

"Make 'em count," he said. "That's the last of the ammo." Merle pocketed the magazine without answering, and for a moment the two brothers just looked at each other. Alexis looked away, suddenly reminded of her own brother..._ Peter_... now lying dead so many miles away in Harmony.

"Least you can do is git yerself _laid_ while I'm gone," Merle finally said loudly, "Might be yer last chance!" he revved the engine hard and grinned at Alexis before pulling away and heading back the way they'd come. They both stood watching as distance made him grow smaller and then finally disappear, then silence. Merle's last words hung in the air, however, so it wasn't complete silence.

"Awkward," said Alexis after a full minute had passed with neither of them speaking.

* * *

><p>"<em>Daryl!" The voice boomed through the tiny house, waking Merle out of a dead sleep in an instant and making him sit bolt upright. He sat still in the darkness, listening as heavy, unsteady footsteps made their way through the house. Merle reached for the tiny lamp on the table next to his bed, but nothing happened when he clicked it on. The power was out again.<em>

"_I told ya to pay the goddamn bill today, ya worthless lil bastard!" The head of the Dixon household was drunk as always, and looking for someone to push around._ _The sound of breaking glass and loud crashes accompanied his shouting, and Merle knew this one was going to be bad. Joe liked surprising Daryl at night, as if catching the boy off guard added to the fun of terrorizing him, and he usually did not even need a reason. But this time he sounded truly angry._

"_Daryl," Merle whispered, not understanding how his brother wasn't awake. "C'mon git up!" He slipped out of bed and felt his way across the room, intending to get the boy up and out the window before their father kicked the door down. He found the younger boy's bed empty, though and was standing in the middle of the room when the door was kicked in._

'_Where is he?" Joe Dixon bellowed, and the smell of stale whiskey immediately filled the room. He was carrying a flashlight, and he shone it around unsteadily, causing a weird strobe effect in the pitch black tiny room sixteen-year-old Merle shared with his younger brother. Merle shielded his eyes against the glare as the flashlight settled on him and took a step back, doing his best to appear defiant and fearless while he squinted._

_"I dunno. He ain't here," Merle said, but cast his eyes around the room, thinking that his brother was likely hiding under the bed, or in the closet. Daryl was scared to death of the dark, and wouldn't have ventured out by himself in the dead of night. Joe apparently thought the same thing and started searching the room._

"_Gave tha lil fucker forty-three bucks to take to the power company t'day," he grumbled as he got down on one knee with great effort to look under the bed. Not finding him there, he swayed to his feet and blundered towards the closet. "Stupid, worthless lil shit.. Pro'ly spent it on candy or sumthin... DARYL! Where the fuck are you!"_

_Merle swallowed nervously, certain that Daryl was hiding in the closet, and looked around to see what might be in easy reach. Movement caught his eye, and he turned to the left to find Daryl crouched in the corner behind the door. He'd been too small when he was born, and even now at_ _eight did not appear to be making much progress in the growth department. Their father had focused his abusive behavior on Merle alone until he'd grown big enough to fight back. By then Joe had decided that Daryl was old enough to "take it like a man," and in addition to his normal meanness turned the blame for the death of his wife on the smaller child. He started slapping him for various offenses when he was three, and Daryl earned his first black eye at the age of four. The first true beating came to him at six after he'd practiced writing his name and drawn pictures and a few choice phrases all over the living room with a set of colorful markers a kind neighbor had given him for his birthday that year. Two fractured ribs, a severely bruised cheekbone, torn ligaments and a broken arm. Merle had blamed himself because he hadn't been home to stop Daryl from decorating the walls. _

_But Daryl was hell on wheels practically at birth, and even more so while in the hospital with his injuries. He pulled two fire alarms, broke into the nursery and swapped all the name tags on the newborn babies' cribs, then stuffed the nurse's station toilet so full of paper towels that it was hopelessly clogged for three days. Merle approved of the boy's creative destruction, but took him off their hands before he could do something worse, like set something on fire. The staff was more than happy to release him into his brother's care after only a week of recovery. Daryl bounced back from the ordeal in his typical fashion, and all was well for a brief time. The police had arrested Joe, but he was released in a week because the boys had no other family. The Dixon boys fell right through the cracks in the county's child protection system, and learned to look after each other._

_As Merle looked at Daryl now, hands clamped over his ears and bare legs pulled tight in an upright fetal position, he could see the fear on his face as he looked up at his older brother pleadingly. He knew damn well that Daryl HAD spent that money, the kid just didn't know how to stay out of trouble. He'd seen him downtown that afternoon with several other local hellions, stuffing their faces on pizza and detonating cherry bombs in trash cans. The sheer terror in Daryl's eyes now made the rage start to boil slowly in his stomach. He held it under control and quickly pushed the door open, hiding his little brother from view._

"_You better be gone," Joe continued his tirade as he searched the closet, slapping empty hangers out of the way and hurling whatever he grabbed onto the floor. "Cuz if I find ya, I'll kill ya this time!" Merle heard the tiniest of sounds from where Daryl was hiding, and Joe did as well. He straightened up and snapped the flashlight towards the sound, but Merle stepped in front of the light quickly._

"_I took it from 'im," he said darkly. "I saw 'im downtown leavin' school an' made 'im give it to me." _

"_Did ya now?" Joe sneered. Merle was not his favorite target, he much preferred Daryl's inability to fight back. But tonight he was feeling meaner than usual, and Merle could see that he was looking forward to a good old-fashioned throw-down with someone closer to his own size._

"_Watchya buy?" Joe asked, stepping forward until his nose was almost touching his son's. Merle had been only an inch shorter than Joe since he turned thirteen, and all he had to do now was raise his chin to be looking his father in the eye. Joe's teeth were blackened and ruined from years of self-abuse, his eyes showed yellow hints of jaundice and his breath stank like a living corpse._

"_I went out ta yer old lady's place," he said, matching the sneer with both facial expression and voice. "She gave me a discount cuz what you been layin' on her fat ass ain't good enough ta - " _

_Joe's fist slammed into Merle's mouth before he'd even finished the last part of his taunt, and Merle both heard and felt something give way on the right side of his jaw. He stumbled backwards and landed on Daryl's narrow bed, raising his hands defensively in front of his face. Joe was on him in a heartbeat, pummeling him repeatedly and even grabbing hold of his collar and jerking him up to take hit after hit in the face. Merle managed to get one hand free and swung back, and as Joe's nose broke under the punch Merle felt his blood race with the thrill. His vision turned red as he got his feet up and used both to shove Joe backwards and reverse their positions. He was spitting out teeth and blood as he put all of his strength behind every swing of his powerful arms, returning every punch Joe had given him. _

_Joe groped around, feeling fear for the first time in his life as Merle transformed into a raging demon, unloading all of the hate and misery this man had caused him for the last sixteen years. His fingers grasped hold of the bedside lamp, which had fallen to the floor, and he smashed it against the side of Merle's head, shoving as the young man collapsed with a grunt. Quick movement caught his eye, and he spotted Daryl darting out of the room faster than a jackrabbit._

"_Come back 'ere, you lil shit," he snarled, and let go of Merle to give chase. But Merle was up with a howl and leaped onto his back, carrying them both to the floor in the hallway just outside the room. They grappled and wrestled for several seconds, and Joe had him back down again for another vicious blow with almost no effort._

_The last thing Merle saw was Daryl coming back up the hallway, his face illuminated by the flashlight on the floor and contorted in a snarl. He had a baseball bat clutched in both hands. As he cocked the bat like a pro player behind Joe, a fist sailed straight at Merle's face, and then the lights went out inside his head. _

_Merle would learn later on that Daryl struck Joe hard in the lower back with the baseball bat, and then bolted from the house as the raging man promptly forgot about unconscious Merle and chased after him. He caught him once in the kitchen, grabbing a hold of his hair, but Daryl sank his teeth into his hand, drawing blood and nearly severing the tendons next to his thumb. He ran outside and straight into the grasp of Sheriff Forrest, who'd just arrived with every on and off-duty officer in town after a neighbor had phoned to report that Joe Dixon was killing his kids. _

_Merle woke up in the hospital two weeks later to find Daryl sitting on a plastic chair next to his bed, looking very small and alone. Merle peered at him through one good eye, and found he couldn't speak because his jaw had been wired shut. Daryl saw that he was awake and_ _climbed up on the bed to sit next to him with a smile that suggested he'd been up to no good as always. His face was dirty, hair messy, shirt too big and pants torn at the knees. He'd lost a front tooth, and he stuck his tongue through the gap as he grinned at Merle. He looked like the perfect poster child for American white-trash poverty, and Merle would have smiled back if his face didn't hurt so badly._

"_I knew ya'd come back," Daryl said, and Merle felt a strange twist deep down in his gut at the complete trust this skinny little rat of a kid had placed in him._

"_I'll always come back," he wanted to say. But he couldn't speak, so he just thought it at him instead._

_Joe Dixon was out of jail in a month and promptly hit the road with his biker buddies, returning once every couple of weeks_ _to check in with his parole officer, give Merle money and terrorize Daryl with verbal threats, taunts and general abuse. But he never laid a hand on either brother again._

Merle reached the town of Greshamville in about an hour, which boasted a population of 1,058 souls on a bright, cheerful sign at the town limits. All cheeriness ended with that sign, however, and Merle slowed the bike down to a speed better suited for the quiet but completely cluttered streets. He immediately sensed danger all around him, and the fact that nothing walked, shambled or stumbled towards him immediately did nothing to stop the hair from standing up on the back of his neck. He was acutely aware of the sound of the powerful motorcycle's engine echoing off the buildings in the town's small square, and knew he'd have to make this trip quick.

Luck was on his side, the town was like may other small towns as self-sufficient as it could be and had a small auto parts store right off the main center road. Merle pulled the bike around back and shut it off, sitting still and listening for a moment. The wind seemed louder wherever they'd gone during this journey, without the normal backdrop of traffic and people noise to cover it. There were several cars in the lot, and Merle spent a few moments going through them and pocketing whatever he found that seemed to be of value. He found a crowbar in the trunk of the last one, and took it with him to assist with the lawful breaking and entering.

_Lawful breaking and entering. _He liked the sound of that. Having done plenty of _unlawful_ breaking and entering over the years, he took much satisfaction in the fact that his actions were perfectly legal here and now. He paused at the back door to the auto parts store and pulled the small brown vial out of his pocket, allowing himself a moment's rest as he took a tiny snort of the white powder, and closed his eyes as the cocaine rushed through his blood with a comforting familiar rush. Daryl despised his habit, and it tended to deflate the abject hero-worship he'd carried for his big brother for so many years. Merle only felt guilty about it when he had to see it reflected in Daryl's eyes: _disappointment_. So he kept it to himself, controlling his use and never allowing it to put Daryl on the spot. That's the way it had always been, and Merle didn't care about anyone else in the world. The rest of them could all go fuck themselves.

He put the vial away and hoisted the crowbar with a smile, then smashed the window on the door. As the glass broke, he realized, too late, that an alarm might be triggered. If his bike hadn't alerted any undead thing in the area to his presence here, an alarm certainly would. But no alarm sounded, and he breathed easier as he reached inside and turned the locks, then quietly let himself inside and began searching the store's inventory.

If he'd looked behind him before entering the store, he would have very likely noticed five walkers off in the distance, making their way in his direction slowly but with purpose.

* * *

><p>The sun was just starting to go down and Merle hadn't returned yet. Daryl paced for a good hour or so after he left, and Alexis sat quietly on a rock just off the road. The trees behind her seemed thick enough to provide good cover, but Daryl seemed to want to stay out in sight for now. Maybe he worried that Merle wouldn't come back and wanted to watch, Alexis reasoned.<p>

His inability to sit still coupled with the stony quiet facade reminded her of a mountain lion she'd seen at the Stoneham Zoo back home years ago. The lion paced within the confines of its cage, calm on the exterior but the violence just below the surface would easily erupt given the right trigger. The constant movement was its way of being ready to spring, and a natural defense against whatever enemy might be considering an attack.

But walkers lacked such instincts, and Alexis began to worry that Daryl's constant movements might attracted unwanted attention. Merle's departure had clearly set him on edge, but she was sure that he would bark at her if she spoke up. She didn't dare tell him to just stop.

"Maybe we should set up camp or something," she finally suggested. "It'll be dark soon." Daryl glanced sideways at her as he turned to continue the pacing cycle.

"Don't wanna sleep in the truck? Might get _cold_ tonight." he responded, and she thought she detected a slight teasing tone. But his expression said otherwise, completely devoid of any humor.

"Maybe if we get off the road, out of sight, we can build a fire," she answered, thinking she sounded stupid even as she said it. Daryl just shook his head, frowning at the ground as if in deep thought. Alexis sighed and looked up, biting her lower lip as she looked at the stars just starting to peep out through the purplish dusky sky. They'd been running and waiting... running and waiting... it seemed beyond ridiculous that it should take to long to travel such a short distance, and now their destination was so close, and still beyond reach.

"I wonder if all this made it as far as Boston," she said quietly, speaking more to the sky than Daryl. "Maybe it's even worse there. I don't know how I'll get back, even if there's help in Atlanta." She realized there would likely be no funeral for Peter, no memorial and no grave for her to visit on his birthday and leave flowers. She closed her eyes and breathed the cool evening air deeply for a few moments.

"You got more family there?" Daryl's voice broke into her thoughts. She opened her eyes and saw that he'd stopped pacing a few steps from her, and was watching her curiously.

"No," she shook her head. "Friends, work people... Peter had a girlfriend...but it's really just been the two of us since we were kids. I mean, it was..." She cursed Merle silently for stealing her cigarettes. She wanted one so badly at that very moment, even though the actual nicotine cravings were starting to fade.

"C'mon," Daryl said, and gestured for her to stand up. "Lets get off the road." He went back to the truck and pulled out his crossbow, gathered the gear they would need for the night and led the way into the trees.


	11. At the Twilight's Last Gleaming

**At The Twilight's Last Gleaming**

Daryl and Alexis walked about a hundred yards into the woods until they found a small rock formation that appeared to have been previously used as a camp not long ago. It was far enough from the road so they wouldn't be seen - or smelled - by any walkers that happened to stumble that way, but close enough that they could still see the truck.

"Others have come through here, then," Alexis remarked. Daryl prodded at the remains of a campfire with his foot.

"Yeah," he responded. "A couple days ago at the most. Prob'ly in Atlanta by now."

He moved away to check the immediate area as she unrolled one of the two sleeping bags and sat down with a tired sigh. He came back in only a few minutes, and didn't report to her that he found what appeared to be the remains of a human skeleton only fifty feet from were she was sitting, or that the "woods" were really only a thick clump of trees in the backyard of an old farmhouse. He paced again for a few more minutes, debating if they should sleep in the truck after all. But Alexis looked like she was already falling asleep, so he chose a spot that let him look in the direction of the road and the farmhouse easily, and crouched down to watch over their makeshift camp until Merle returned.

Sleep came to Alexis quickly, as it usually did. Daryl watched her for a moment and silently wondered how she was able to do that, fall asleep so quickly and easily. It was like she had a switch in her head, and could shut it off whenever she wanted. His thoughts strayed back to the night when she'd made her first kill, how much it had sickened and frightened her. And how much she'd drunk...

Somewhere off in the distance a twig snapped, and the chorus of crickets fell silent. A second snap, and Daryl rose silently, crossbow in both hands and ready to fire. But the sound wasn't repeated, and soon the crickets resumed chirping happily, completely unaffected by the recent events in the world. Daryl stayed standing and watchful for many long minutes before resuming his crouched position.

By the time the moon had reached its full height, Merle still hadn't returned.

* * *

><p>Merle walked to the edge of the rooftop and looked down, wondering for the umpteenth time how the hell he'd gotten into this mess. He'd been inside the automotive parts store for exactly ten minutes when he found what he needed and loaded it all into a backpack. As an afterthought he tossed in a pack of spark plugs, tire repair glue and grabbed another spare gas can for good measure. Then he'd gone to the back door and found that he had visitors.<p>

Luckily, walkers lacked the intelligence to simply turn the knob and come in, but within minutes the entire building was surrounded by an ever-growing mob of the dead. Merle beat a hasty retreat up the back stairs to the roof as they started pounding against the glass of the doors and front window. He knew they'd been attracted to the sound of his motorcycle, and then more walkers came because they were attracted to the pounding and snarling of the first arrivals. It was a bizarre cycle, and unless they all shut up at the same time, it wasn't going to stop.

He'd wedged the rooftop door closed with the crowbar just in case they managed to get inside, and waited as the sun went down. As nighttime closed around him, he sat on the edge and looked down at the horde of dead flesh and congealed blood, munching on beef jerky that had no taste and had dried to a consistency of shoe leather. The wind turned cold abruptly, and Merle cursed the randomness of fate.

He also cursed Alexis briefly. If it wasn't for her, he and Daryl would probably be in Atlanta right now. He finished off the beef jerky and tossed the empty wrapper down at the crowd in front of the store, wishing he had something bigger and heavier to throw at them. The Glock had six rounds and one more backup magazine. It might be enough to shoot a hole in a small crowd and get tot he motorcycle, but Merle knew that if they surrounded him it wouldn't matter how many reloads he was carrying.

_This could be it, _he thought to himself. _Thirteen confirmed kills and a purple heart in combat, then I get taken down by a platoon of brain-dead dumbfucks_.

He walked the roof front to back a few times. Exiting through the front door was out of the question. The walkers stood at least four deep in front and he could see even more coming up the road. The back of the building was more secluded, however, and he felt a small surge of hope as he counted ten - no, twelve - walkers milling around his motorcycle. The lot was too small, though. Even if he managed to shoot them all, he still had to get the bike started, back it out and then get clear before the ones out front came after him.

As the moon rose high in the sky, illuminating the small town square, Merle was ready to give up and just wait until morning. If they hadn't moved on by then, he'd just have to go down there and start shooting. At the very least, maybe Daryl would hear the ruckus and figure out that he wasn't coming back this time. Merle hoped he wouldn't do something stupid, like come looking for him. But then his eye fell on something in the very center of town, and he leaned forward, squinting at the sign that had been raised in preparation for some local celebration before the world came to an end.

_Happy 4__th__ of July! Fireworks Tonight! 9:00 - 9:30 PM_, the sign read. And there, just beyond the sign was the full pyrotechnics display, sheltered in the large wooden gazebo in the wide grassy center of town. Merle frowned for long moments, thinking hard, and then a smile spread slowly across his face.

"Oh yeah," he said out loud, then stood up and waved with a laugh at the walkers below. "Gonna be a hell of a show tonight, assholes!" he hurried to the stairwell door, still chuckling to himself as he remembered some of the other items he'd seen while hunting for a fan belt downstairs.

* * *

><p>Alexis awoke from a dream so abruptly the adrenaline surged through her head, making her dizzy and blurring the line between asleep and awake. She'd been dreaming about the old brownstone townhouse she owned in Boston, with the harbor right outside her back door and a small garden in front. In the dream she'd come home from work to find it filled with walkers, all of them looking exactly like Peter. They didn't attack her, only followed her around the house, staring at her with accusing eyes. It was even more unnerving than the more violent dreams she'd had lately, and she got to her feet quickly, looking around for Daryl.<p>

But he was nowhere to be seen, even with the bright moonlight above filtering through the trees and providing enough light so she could see for a short distance. She stood indecisively for a minute, thinking maybe he was just behind a tree somewhere keeping watch on the road, but she wasn't sure which way to look. The longer she stood alone in the darkness, the more the adrenaline surged and she could hear her breathing start to catch in her throat. She realized then that the woods had gone completely silent, even the sound of the crickets had stopped.

"_Daryl!"_ she finally whispered as loud as she dared, fear gripping her heart as she cast wide eyes around the area. He didn't answer, and she heard no nearby movement that might give away his position. _My god... he's gone after Merle, and left me here... in the fucking woods!_ She took several deep breaths, determined not to let her fear give way to panic, and bent down to feel around her sleeping bag for the loaded revolver Merle had given her. It was smaller than the one she'd fired at Fred, easier for her to handle with one hand and nowhere near as heavy. But it was also a six-shooter, with only four shots. She held it in her left hand and stepped out of the small camp circle, immediately stepping on a twig that gave off a loud _snap_. She froze, and listened, but heard nothing, so she took another step, and then another. She'd decided to head down to the road and lock herself in the truck, if she didn't find Daryl along the way.

For a few anxious moments, she wasn't even sure if she was heading in the right direction. The darkness and woods offered no hints, and she berated herself for not joining the Girl Scouts as a child. But she kept moving slowly, groping her way through small branches and kicking the occasional rock. After what seemed an eternity, she spotted the truck in the bright moonlight and breathed a small sigh of relief. Suddenly she sensed movement behind her, and heard the slightest of rustles as an arm came out of nowhere and grabbed her around the waist. A hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her frightened squeak as she felt herself being dragged backwards.

"_Shh!"_ came a hiss in her ear, and she fought against her assailant for only half a second before she realized it was Daryl. He pulled her back behind a large tree and pushed her down onto her knees, still gripping her tightly from behind, hand clamped firmly over her mouth. A different fear started to rise in her chest as she realized how easily he could overpower her if he wanted to, and she started to push back.

"_Quiet!"_ he whispered sharply as she tried to speak, her words muffled. His grip on her waist tightened, and the hand over her mouth turned her head to the right so she could see what he was seeing. She caught and held her breath as several walkers came into view, less than twenty feet from where they were both crouched. They both froze and watched as four, five, six walkers came into view. Something was drawing them to the truck, perhaps only instinctive curiosity, but more were coming. Alexis realized she'd have blundered straight into them, and her heart started to pound violently.

Daryl slipped his hand off her mouth and moved it to her shoulder, squeezing tightly and pulling her backwards until her head touched his. She could feel the side of his face pressed against her head, lips almost touching her ear as he spoke in an almost silent whisper. "Follow me, back to the camp, an' stay quiet." She nodded and reached up to grab hold of his hand on her shoulder as he let go of her waist and started to move backwards. Hand in hand, they made their way back to the campsite, and she was sure she stepped on every loud-snapping stick along the way. She didn't dare look back as Daryl pulled her into a run once they reached the campsite, and passed right by it. She wanted to ask where they were going, but as the sound of the walkers entering the woods reached her ears, she decided she didn't care. Daryl looked back then pulled on her hand until she was in front of him.

"Go!" he said out loud, and turned to fire one arrow from his crossbow as the first walker came into view. "There's a house up ahead, keep movin'!" She realized they were on a path, and fear made her feet move faster. She heard the walker drop and Daryl was right behind her to pull her back up and push her forward when she stumbled over a rock. She saw he'd pulled all of the arrows from his pack and secured them in a holster on his back for easy reach, but reloading the crossbow was a two-handed job that would require him to stop.

"There it is," she said breathlessly as they came to a clearing. The house was at the top of a long, dirt driveway and over two hundred yards away. She started to run forward, but Daryl grabbed her arm and steered her left.

"It's too far," he said, and pointed at a large barn looming up in the darkness off to the side. It was surrounded by a wide open field and fence, and they were both climbing the fence in a matter of seconds. Daryl hoped it would hold the walkers off for a few moments at least as they sprinted towards the barn. Alexis reached the door first and grabbed at the handle. Daryl put his free hand over hers and helped her drag it open, but as it swung open she shrieked and stumbled backwards, almost knocking him down.

At least a dozen walkers looked up at them from where they were kneeling on the floor around the corpse of what may have once been a horse or a cow. Flesh hung from the rib cage of the animal and Alexis' stomach turned as one of them stood up with a long rope of slimy intestine in its hands. Daryl grabbed her arm and pulled her away, pushing her ahead of him as they ran around the side of the barn.

"We'll have to run for the house," Alexis said, talking so fast he could barely understand her. Daryl looked at the house, then up at the steeply-sloped roof of the barn.

"We'll never make it," he said, and a crashing sound from somewhere inside the barn punctuated his words. He looked back at the fence between them and the woods, and saw another half-dozen walkers milling against it. It was slowing them down, but all they had to do was follow it to the small opening that led to the barn. The walkers inside the barn were moving now, perhaps more interested in living prey than the feast before them._ Shit. Where the fuck are you, Merle?_

"Over there!" Alexis suddenly shouted, and started running. Daryl blinked in surprise as she darted to a shed built against the back wall of the barn. It was only about eight feet high and maybe six feet wide and deep, but it looked solid enough with only one door and no windows. He ran after her, but they found the door padlocked and Alexis' brief moment of hope disappeared rapidly. She looked back as a crowd of walkers came around the corner, and reached for the gun at her waist.

"No!" said Daryl. "Up!" He dropped the crossbow and pushed her around to the side of the shed, then bent down so she could put her foot in his hands. She grabbed the edge of the shed's roof and pulled as Daryl boosted her from below. He handed the crossbow up to her and she set it down and grabbed for his arms as he jumped up and caught the edge with both hands.

"Hurry!" she shouted and grabbed onto the leg that he swung up for a foothold. The walkers were almost on him, and he kicked one of them hard in the face as it grabbed hold of his ankle. Alexis caught the back of his belt and _pulled_, feeling the strain in her arms, and suddenly they were both on top of the small shed. Daryl scrambled and grabbed the crossbow, then stood up and held it between his knees as he pulled the wire back and locked it into place.

"Watch out!" Alexis shouted, and he spun around to see one of the walkers was halfway up onto the roof. He swung the crossbow hard, hitting it in the face with the butt of the weapon, and it fell to the ground with a thud.

"Hope they're not all as tall as that one," he said breathlessly, and fitted an arrow into place. "Don't shoot unless you have to," he said they both moved to stand back to back, watching as their small refuge was completely surrounded in minutes.

"Okay," she said, gaining control of her breathing as they stood still, watching as the walkers gathered around the shed. "So what do we do now?"

"I'm thinkin," he replied, and she pushed up against his back as a walker grabbed the edge of the roof on her side.

"Think faster," she said, and pointed the gun at it. "Because I'm thinking that this was a _really_ bad idea." Daryl turned and fired at the walker as its head came into view, hitting it squarely between the eyes. He elbowed Alexis backwards until they were both pressed flat against the barn wall, and hastily loaded another arrow into the crossbow as more walker hands grabbed for a hold. _Thinkin' ain't workin' too good right now. _

"I'm sorry," she said as they crouched there, watching as the inevitable approached. "This is my fault."

"You really need to get over yerself," he said mildly as he looked up at the barn roof again, then up at the house. Suddenly Alexis gave off a surprised shriek, and disappeared. _What the - _Daryl watched in a sort of slow-motion shock as the barn wall gave way behind her, and she fell through what he realized was rotting wood. He heard her hit something just below and inside, then heard another thump as she landed on the barn floor.

"Lex!" he shouted, and started for the hole, but two walkers managed to pull themselves up and were coming straight at him. "Goddammit, _Lex!_" he turned and shot the nearest one between the eyes, and clubbed the second with a mighty swing. He cursed out loud as a third and fourth one started to pull themselves up, forcing him to the far edge away from the hole Alexis had tumbled through.

Suddenly the night sky lit up, and Daryl turned to stare in disbelief as a dazzling display of fireworks began soaring upward in the distance. Red, white and blue splashed across the night sky, and the resounding _booms_ followed close behind. The walkers slowed their advance, clearly disoriented by the noise and light, and Daryl watched in amazement as several of them shuffled away immediately, mindlessly following the lights. But the next sounds made his heart leap up into his throat. Gunshots came from inside the barn, followed by the sound of Alexis screaming. As the walkers ambled away from the shed and the fireworks display built intensity, Daryl took advantage of the distraction and jumped off the shed.

Alexis was still screaming as he hit the ground and swung hard at the walker in his path. As he jumped over the falling corpse and started running towards the front of the barn, he heard her shout his name once. But by the time he reached the barn doors, he couldn't hear her anymore.

* * *

><p>"Yeah!" Merle shouted in delight, watching as the walkers turned almost as one towards the center square, clearing a path to the motorcycle parked just outside the back door. He'd found a pack of bottle rockets and roman candles behind the counter of the auto store and spent almost half an hour firing them in the direction of the main fireworks display. The ones that had missed their target had attracted some attention, but not nearly enough. Finally one bottle rocket had landed perfectly, and he'd waited anxiously for it to explode inside the gazebo. And when it did, all hell broke loose in a colorful, noisy display.<p>

Merle didn't waste another second watching. He grabbed the backpack and bolted for the stairs, running through the dark store as the dead horde's attention was drawn away from him. In the parking lot, his odds were greatly improved with only two walkers lingering in confusion. He shot the first one in the back of the head without slowing, the sound barely distinctive from the holiday in the sky. He shot the second one in the face as he was climbing onto the motorcycle, and a few minutes later he was roaring his way out of town, leaving behind utter chaos and colorful confusion."

"Over the land of the free and the home of the brave! And THAT'S how it's done!" Merle shouted gleefully as he reached the highway and turned right, heading back towards where he'd left his brother.

* * *

><p>Daryl rounded the front of the barn at full speed and skidded to a stop just inside the doors. The fireworks continued their joyous celebration in the sky as he stared into the barn, disoriented by the strobe effect of the bright explosions in the dark. Shadows bounced off everything inside, making it hard to know if anything was truly moving.<p>

"Lex!" Daryl risked a loud shout and hurriedly locked another arrow into place as he moved into the barn. A gurgly, fractured growl answered him, and he spotted a walker in the corner coming out of one of the stalls. Another bright explosion lit up the sky, and Daryl saw that it had fresh blood on its hands and mouth. Heart pounding, he shot it in the face and ran forward, dreading what he knew he would find in the stall.

Three more walkers were inside, crouched around a fresh kill and feeding voraciously. Daryl took one look at the legs clad in blue jeans, work boots and pale skin peeking out from the bloodbath and his vision turned red. _Motherfuckers! _His brain screamed. He dropped the empty crossbow, and snatched a long, rusty-looking scythe hanging from a nail on a nearby beam, then plowed forward into the stall. He hacked blindly at them, rage taking over and lending strength. A walker arm thudded to the ground, then a head. One of them ignored him completely, but the third charged forward, forcing him to back out of the stall. He chopped at it viciously and the scythe stuck in its head as it collapsed to the floor. He yanked it loose and moved forward with a growl, heading back to the stall without thinking. A gunshot exploded just behind him, snapping him back to his senses and making his ears ring. He spun around in time to see the second shot take down another walker, and a man came through the doorway with the weapon held firmly against his shoulder. The last walker came out of the stall and charged at Daryl, but he sidestepped easily and swung the scythe into the back of its neck.

"Move!" the new arrival ordered, and came forward to shoot the walker through the head. Daryl looked at him for a moment, then turned back to the stall almost reluctantly.

"Hey," his rescuer said after he'd stared inside for almost a full minute. He came up to stand beside him and grimaced at the sight. "God _damn_," he said quietly, then took hold of Daryl's arm.

"Come with us," he said. "I don't know who set off those fireworks but they have to stop eventually. Come _on_," Daryl shook him off angrily, but started to back away from the grisly scene inside the stall, then turned and followed the stranger outside.

"Shane!" a female voice called from outside, edgy with fear. "What are you doing? Hurry!" Daryl saw a tall, thin woman with frightened eyes standing next to a Jeep. A boy in the back seat stared at them both as they approached.

"Is that your truck down by the road?" Shane asked Daryl. He didn't answer immediately, only paused to reload the crossbow, his face stony and expressionless once again. Shane glanced back at the barn, then at the young man standing before him.

"Look," he said. "I'm sorry 'bout your friend, but if we don't move now we're not gettin' out of here. You can ride with us if you want."

Daryl looked back at the barn for a long moment, then accepted the ride without a word. The woman climbed into the back to sit next to the boy so he could ride shotgun. Shane told him they'd been spending the night in the old farmhouse when the fireworks went off, and were leaving when they heard the gunshots from the barn. Daryl ignored him, and the woman when she asked him his name. By the time they were back on the main road, the sun was starting to come up, the fireworks had ended and both had stopped trying to question him. As the familiar blue and white truck came into view, Daryl gave a very small sigh of relief as he spotted Merle's bike once again parked on the back. The hood of the truck was open, and Merle came walking around as Shane pulled up behind the truck.

"Where the fuck were you?" Merle growled at Daryl, and then scowled at Shane. Daryl ignored them both and walked around to the front of the truck, stopping only to toss the crossbow inside on the seat. Merle had laid out the parts on the ground and started the job, but Daryl had it finished with Shane's help in less than an hour.

As they worked on the truck, Shane told both brothers that Atlanta was the first city to fall, and was completely overrun with walkers. Daryl said nothing, but felt hope slipping away as the man spoke. He stopped listening at that point, only nodded when Merle suggested they should follow them. They were apparently headed for a state park North of the City, having heard that people were up there. Relative safety might be found in numbers, Merle supposed. Besides, they didn't have anywhere else to go.

Merle didn't ask where Alexis was as they drove away. His brother's stony, angry silence said it all.


	12. Survivor

_**A/N:** It was so tempting to make you all wait a week... but I'm really not that cruel. Thank you for freaking out, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside!_

* * *

><p>So come out of your cave walking on your hands<br>And see the world hanging upside down  
>You can understand dependence<br>When you know the maker's hand

So make your siren's call  
>And sing all you want<br>I will not hear what you have to say  
>Cause I need freedom now<br>And I need to know how  
>To live my life as it's meant to be<p>

And I will hold on hope  
>And I won't let you choke<br>On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain  
>And I will change my ways<br>I'll know my name as it's called again

-Mumford and Sons

* * *

><p><strong>Survivor<strong>

_"Goddammit, Lex!" Alexis heard Daryl's angry shout only seconds after she hit the floor of the barn hard. The sudden sensation of falling combined with the hard landing knocked the breath from her lungs, and she lay there for a moment, gasping for air. The snarling of the dead outside grew louder and she knew they were closing in around him. She rolled over and coughed hard, finally finding her breath as she started to scramble to her feet, then froze at the sight before her._

_Inside one of the horses' stalls directly in front of her were three walkers, their attention focused on what appeared to be a very recently-dead victim. Alexis saw boots, blue jeans, blood and entrails... and that was all she needed to see. She got to her feet slowly, hoping that their attention would stay where it was, but a massive **boom** high up in the sky suddenly shook the barn, and the night lit up with complete chaos of what could only be fireworks. Alexis had no time to wonder why, because almost immediately the three walkers turned and saw her, and a fourth walker came into view, cutting off her escape through the door. Sudden movement from the side made her heart leap, and she heard herself scream as a fifth lunged at her, grabbing hold of her arm and baring its teeth to bite. She got the gun up fast and shot it through the head at point-blank range, its dead weight carrying her down to the ground. She realized she was screaming uncontrollably as she pushed the corpse off and scrambled backwards as the remaining four closed in on her. Another shot, then a third and fourth... then the revolver clicked empty. She threw the empty gun at the closest walker and it bounced harmlessly off its chest._

_"Daryl!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, knowing full well that he could already be dead, and even if he was alive he would never be able to reach her in time. She felt her back hit the wall and scrabbled desperately at it with her fingers. Suddenly she felt something give way, and risked a look down at the place behind her where the floor met the wall. A plank was loose, and as the walkers drew closer she yanked at it, intending to tear it loose and swing it at the first head she could reach. But instead of tearing loose, a large section lifted up on hinges, and she realized she was looking into a crawlspace under the barn. Gasping in disbelief, she dove heard first into the narrow opening and let the door drop closed behind her, then groped around in the pitch black space as a new kind of terror rose in her throat. It was as close as a coffin inside, and the air was filled with years of dust that threatened to choke her as she drew frantic breaths.  
><em>

_Directly over her head the walkers snarled and thumped, perhaps hitting and kicking the wall in confusion. The fireworks display grew louder, drowning out any other noise and Alexis felt the walls of her tiny refuge begin to shake. She heard the clink and rattle of glass nearby, and felt around until she found what appeared to be shelves lined with glass jars. She also realized they were all rocking violently under the concussions of the fireworks display, and she had nowhere to go when they simultaneously tipped over and crashed down on top of her in a shower of broken glass, splintered wood and dust. _

Hours later, Alexis awoke with a splitting headache and muscles that screamed in pain at her first attempt to move. Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the floor above her head, giving her just enough light to look around as she carefully extricated herself from the debris. A strong odor of alcohol stung her eyes and nostrils, and she realized she was completely soaked in what could only be home-stilled moonshine. A sudden fear that the walkers would be able to smell her sprung into her mind and she held still for several minutes, straining her ears for any sound from above. The barn above was completely silent, and she eventually crept to the narrow door and pushed it open slowly, then climbed shakily out of the crawlspace. The barn was empty, save for the remains of the anonymous unfortunate soul in the stall, little more than bones and tattered clothing now, and the bodies of several walkers, all dead from gunshot wounds to the head. She had no idea how long she'd been unconscious, and as she moved hesitantly outside into the bright sunlight her disorientation began to clear. Heart in her throat, she made her way quickly through the woods to the campsite and found it empty. By the time she reached the road, her fear had reached an almost irrational level. She stood staring at the spot where Daryl's truck had been parked and reasoned that there was nothing irrational about being terrified at this moment.

If Daryl and Merle were both still alive, they were long gone by now. They had left her behind._  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Four months later<strong>

**Center for Disease Control**  
><strong>Zone 5, Atlanta<strong>

_Day 137 since Wildfire was declared: Initial results led us to believe that it was similar to bacterial meningitis, and the symptoms of early onset seem to follow the same path. Severe headache and stiffness in the neck, fever and chills, changes in mental status, nausea and vomiting, elevated blood pressure, light sensitivity... a full spinal tap reveals little more than a standard blood test... a decrease in both white and red blood cell counts and an unusually high glucose reading. Protein levels in the blood also show a rapid decline as the infection advances. Curiously, we found extremely high levels of adrenaline in the brain in all test subjects. Unsure if this has any relation to the unusually high glucose levels in the blood samples. We believed this infection to be bacterial, but it does not respond to any antibiotics so far. It's difficult to produce accurate results while working with necrotic tissue. Hopefully, Test Subject Nineteen will produce more promising results._

_It's been 54 days since the infection went global, and over a month since I've received any response to these transmissions. I will continue to submit weekly reports, but... in all honesty, I'm running out of things to report._

_This is Dr. Edward Jenner, Signing off for now._

* * *

><p><strong>Atlanta Survivor Camp<br>**

The group of survivors had pulled together well in the space of only a few months, and their numbers were at a level that was comforting in many ways, but with that comfort came many more mouths to feed. With only a few exceptions, Dale found that he rather liked the ragtag family unit that appeared to be forming.

The arrival of Shane Walsh had been a welcome one. He was an officer with the Sheriff's department out of a small town in Kentucky, and he brought a small sense of security to those who had been running with no help from any sort of government or law enforcement. He quickly got the group organized and set up a security perimeter around the camp. It wasn't the barbed wire and high walls one would have hoped for, but the creatively simple means of stringing tin cans on wire as an intruder alert system was better than nothing. He organized regular watch schedules and sweeps of the surrounding woods. With him came Lori and Carl Grimes, and between the three of them they had lost a partner, a husband and a father back home in Kentucky.

Also arriving with Shane were the Dixon brothers, who immediately ruffled everyone's feathers with their sorely lacking social graces and apparent hatred for everyone around them. Daryl proved himself to be invaluable as a highly skilled hunter despite his apparent dislike for the group, and he went out regularly on overnight trips into the deep woods, perhaps preferring the wild to living among humans. Strangely, he seemed more than willing to share what he brought back with him, and everyone learned how to skin and cook small game such as rabbits and squirrel whether they wanted to or not. But he had an extremely short fuse and his explosions were unpredictable to say the least. Shane intervened in such explosions many times, sometimes physically subduing Daryl when someone made the mistake of pushing a button. On the flip side, his brother Merle stayed close to camp and did little more than insult everyone not of Caucasian descent. His open racism as well as a complete lack of respect for females of any race was particularly offensive, and they all learned quickly to steer clear. He rarely exploded as unpredictably as his younger brother, but nobody wanted to test that theory too closely. The brothers pitched their tents as far away from the rest of the group as they could, and T-Dog christened their area as the "Whites Only" section.

Last to arrive were Ed and Carol Peletier, and their eleven-year old daughter Sophia. This brought the number of children in camp to four. They'd made the long haul all the way from East Texas in an old station wagon. Carol was a sweet, likable woman who worked hard every day with mundane chores such as cooking, washing clothes for her family and everyone else. But it wasn't long before the other women of the camp saw the signs of long-term abuse on both Carol and Sophia, and Dale decided that Ed was in many ways even worse than Merle. Ed agreed to take his turn at watch regularly just like everyone else, but that was the extent of his participation. As much as the Dixon brothers irritated everyone, Ed was downright despicable in comparison.

Dale Horvath watched through binoculars as Glenn and the others made their way down the narrow road past the quarry and disappeared from view. His regular solo trips to the city had been successful enough in the short run, but being alone and on foot he could only carry so much. After several weeks of getting by on what Daryl brought back from his hunting trips, Shane decided that Glenn should take a group with him on his next foray into the city. Glenn objected at first, declaring that the reason behind his success was simply that he was able to move faster alone. But they put it to a vote, and a party of volunteers formed. Morales, T-Dog, Jacqui and Andrea stepped up immediately, but Shane wanted someone with firearms experience to go along, and asked Merle to join them. Much to everyone's surprise (and disappointment), he agreed, and the group left at dawn the next day.

* * *

><p><strong>Summerdale Nursing Home<strong>  
><strong>Midtown Atlanta<strong>

Miguel liked to think of himself as one badass dude, even as the youngest member of the gang that once ruled the streets of East Side Atlanta. Well, maybe _ruled_ wasn't the best word, but things were a hell of a lot better before the streets were taken over by a gang of a whole different sort. The vatos he ran with before were a tough bunch who looked out for their own and affectionately called him _Miguelito_ despite his objections. Before, it had been rival gangs and thugs of various variety that threatened them the most, but now things were different. More different than young Miguel could ever have imagined. His age ceased to be a variable after Atlanta fell to the undead, and the lines that separated the different factions throughout the city had been erased. Guillermo had effectively pulled all of the gangs together - or what was left of them - and earned high respect and loyalty in return.

As soon as everything quieted down enough to venture outside of the stronghold Guillermo had created out of necessity, the vatos formed scavenger parties and went out regularly to bring back what their people needed to survive. Miguel was among the first to go, and proved his usefulness immediately by being small and quick enough to get through large crowds of walkers without injury. He'd gone out by himself on many occasions, but supplies were running low and he needed extra hands this time. Today Felipe had been needed at Summerdale and stayed behind while Miguel went out on a run with Alejandro and Jorge. The three of them headed downtown to the pharmaceutical outlet, which was also where Miguel had run into a lone survivor a couple months ago.

She'd almost blown his head off the first time he'd blundered into the building, having hidden inside after being chased by a bunch of _banditos_ who'd found her wandering alone in their part of the city. It was bad enough that walkers roamed in enormous groups that were difficult to avoid, but a single woman traveling by herself often had to worry about the living even more than the dead. They were the perfect example of every bad trait a human being could possibly have, they took what they wanted by force and a pretty woman alone stood almost no chance of getting out unscathed. She'd come back to Summerdale with him, and all of the residents had taken to her quiet, generous manner immediately. The vatos had started calling her _Angelita_ after Felipe's _abuela_ had decided she was her little angel. But she came and went as she pleased, choosing not to stay behind the safe walls of the stronghold at all times for reasons nobody fully understood. The vatos met many such wanderers, people who moved around constantly, looking for something inexplicable and just out of reach. Some came back, others didn't. Miguel worried every time she left, having taken to her just as quickly as the others, perhaps a little more. The others took great amusement in his crush, and he endured their teasing as stoically as he could.

"There's your _gringa_ now, Miguelito," Jorge chortled as they pulled into the yard of the stronghold. Miguel gave him a smack on the back of the head as he hopped out of the car. She'd been gone for almost a week this time, and Miguel was relieved that she was still alive. She was talking to Guillermo just outside the door, but turned and smiled at them as they approached, their arms filled with supplies.

"_Oye_, Angelita," Alejandro smiled widely at her, as flirtatious as always. "It's good that you're back. Miguel missed you." Miguel growled and swung a poorly-aimed kick at him, unable to hit him because his hands were full. He smiled sheepishly at her as he went inside, and the warmth of her returning smile almost dazzled him. But her attention returned to the conversation with Guillermo almost immediately, and she seemed to have already forgotten about him as he disappeared from view.

"It's getting worse," she said quietly as the boys moved inside. I found a small group of survivors over on Trinity, they were living inside the school. But when I went back a couple days later, they were all dead. Even the children."

"Walkers?" Guillermo suggested, but she shook her head. He sighed and folded his arms with a frown. Everyone looted now, it was the only way to survive. But these people... the vatos had already fought them off several times, defending their makeshift home by tooth and nail. Their Angelita had learned to avoid them quickly, and carried with her a sawed-off shotgun and machete for close encounters of any kind. But the majority of people who fell prey to them were unarmed and defenseless. They also looted as a means of survival, but singled out the weak and never hesitated to rape and kill as the mood struck them. In comparison, the walkers were easy to deal with, although they had the superior numbers these days.

"If they hit us again we might not survive," Guillermo said, referring to both threats. "We need weapons. We can't keep beating them back with sticks." Their numbers had dwindled during the last such attack, and the combined losses to enemies both alive and dead had risen heavily. Leaving was out of the question. The majority of the residents here at Summerdale were barely able to take care of themselves on a daily basis, never mind making a journey out of the city.

"We'll find a way," She said, and Guillermo smiled as she patted his shoulder kindly and went inside. _Always the optimist_.

After she'd made her usual visits to the residents and distributed the small gifts she'd brought with her, the vatos' angel left the stronghold once again, much to Miguel's disappointment. She had several favorite places around the city that she used as safehouses, all of them up high in various buildings and easily secured from intruders both alive and dead. She'd come into Atlanta on her own, and learned the hard way that it was no longer wise to flag down passing motorists for help. After barely surviving her first encounter with a crowd of walkers, she'd jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire by running straight at a group of banditos who shouted and waved to her, thinking they would save her from the dead. They did, but she'd found herself in even greater peril almost immediately. _Another lesson learned_.

Everything she owned she'd found along the way during the journey to Atlanta, and carried it all with her in a battered backpack. The shotgun was always within reach, barrel down in the partially open back, and she carried the machete in her hand at all times. She'd become reasonably skilled with it, developing strength in her upper arms every time she took the head off a walker. This was her life now. Survival. She learned the layout of the city quickly, and knew exactly which neighborhoods to avoid and which were more passable by day. She never traveled at night, and always made sure she was close enough to one of her safehouses well before nightfall. She checked in with the vatos as regularly as she could, occasionally taking one of the beds they offered to her when she wanted a night spent in relative safety.

But she always left and continued searching. Every time she found survivors who weren't intent on raping and/or killing her, she questioned them extensively about where they'd been, who they had seen and where they were going. Not once in the last few months had she heard even a hint of what she hoped to hear. Hope had begin to fade rapidly, but still she clung to what little she had. The vatos were as close to family as she was going to get, that much was becoming clear. She found she didn't mind that so much. Beneath the tough homeboy exterior, every one of them was loyal and she trusted them completely. But even in the security of their stronghold, she paced restlessly until it was time to leave again, and continue searching for even the slightest hint that Daryl and Merle Dixon were still alive and might be somewhere nearby.

Three days later, she stood on the roof of a building on Martin Luther King Drive, watching in complete disbelief as a cowboy rode into town on a horse. She dropped to one knee and rifled in her pack until she found a pair of binoculars, then stood and focused them on the lone horseback rider. As she focused in closer, she saw that he was actually wearing a sheriff's uniform and the typical wide-brimmed hat that most troopers wore. What was most notable was the fact that a large duffel bag was slung across his back, and she spotted at least half a dozen long-barreled rifles and shotguns.

_So a one-man cavalry is coming to town, and he's armed to the teeth,_ she thought. _Damned fool. _

The banditos rarely roamed this area, but only because it was completely overrun with walkers. She could see a few of them now, shuffling out of wherever they were hiding as the slow and steady sound of the horse's hooves clip-clopped and echoed through the quiet streets. She followed his progress up the street, moving to the far corner of the building as he crossed Piedmont at a leisurely pace, slowing the horse slightly to look at the abandoned Army tank in the middle of the road. He looked completely at ease, and she gritted her teeth in frustration, then grabbed her pack and hurried to the small catwalk that led to the next rooftop. He'd seen the walkers, but apparently thought they were no threat to him. That might be true if there was only one or two, but if he was dumb enough to turn left at the next intersection, he was going to be in a world of shit really fast.

She ran across the catwalk easily, no longer needing to grip the railing in terror and hurried to the furthest corner of the roof. She turned the binoculars back to the horseback rider and hissed through her teeth as he turned left. Even she was not fully prepared for the sight that he saw, and she heard herself gasp as he almost literally ran into a wall of walkers. There were hundreds of them gathered on that single street, and the horse reacted immediately, rearing up and letting out a terrified ear-splitting shriek as his rider fought to turn him around.

"Run," she said out loud. "Come on, don't look just _run_."And run he did. He got the animal under control and kicked it into a full gallop back the way he'd come, and she found herself running back across the catwalk again, trying to keep him in sight as he raced for safety. But the horse's noise had attracted more of them, and they were closing in quickly on all sides.

"Come on, just keep moving!" she urged him, hearing her voice rise slightly in desperation. If he kept his momentum he should be able to break through them, and for a moment she thought he was going to make it. But the horse had other plans, and panicked at the sights and smells of the dead clustering around.

"No," she breathed, and lowered the binoculars with a sigh as the horse reared up again, screaming in terror as a hundred pairs of hands grabbed at it hungrily. The rider was dumped to the ground, and she lost sight of him in the swarming crowd as the horse went down. She started to turn away as the horse's pitiful screams echoed loudly through the streets, but caught sight of the rider crawling desperately away from the feeding frenzy. She snatched the binoculars back up and watched, horrified as the man pulled his sidearm and fired it twice at the closest walkers, then crawled away, retreating under the tank.

She heard three more shots, and then silence fell, broken only by the sounds of walkers swarming in from all directions, their attention focused on the feast the unfortunate horse was providing them today. She watched for a few more minutes, seeing no further movement from the tank, then moved the binoculars slightly and focused in on the duffel bag lying on the ground, still stuffed full with guns.

She deliberated for only a moment, then snatched up her pack and ran for the building stairwell. Guillermo's words echoed in her mind as she made her way down to the ground level and exited out the back of the building.

"_We need weapons. We can't keep beating them back with sticks." _


	13. Tinderbox

**A/N:** Dear anonymous reviewers: I would love to know who you all are so I can address you by name. I suspect the one who called me "babe" is someone I know... or maybe I just have a secret admirer. :) Thank you all for your comments, everyone, and your patience...it's Friday the 13th, and the feeding frenzy will now resume.

* * *

><p><strong>Tinderbox<strong> 

_The first night was the worst. Alexis walked up the middle of the road alone for hours, unarmed and carrying nothing but the road map in her pocket and a .38 revolver with no bullets. Countless times she saw movement out of the corner of an eye and nearly panicked, only to discover it was a plastic bag caught in the wind, a squirrel running up a tree or even leaves stirred up in the breeze. By the time afternoon turned into evening, she was sunburned, dehydrated and exhausted. _

_Although she did not encounter a single walker that first day, the road was littered with the remains of humanity. Abandoned cars sat at the side of the road, or even in the middle of the road with the doors hanging open, as if their owners had simply fled, leaving all else behind. She started searching them after the initial panic of being abandoned began to turn into a numb detachment and shock. There was little of any real use to be found, but just before dusk she followed a bend in the road and came upon an abandoned pickup truck with a camper hitched to the back. Any indecisiveness about looking inside was gone as a sudden cloudburst opened up overhead and she felt her sunburned skin suddenly turn cold in the stinging rain. _

_The camper was hardly secure, but she was too tired to care at this point. She latched the door tightly behind her and sat against it with her knees drawn up to her chest. As the night grew darker and colder, her shivering increased and she began to wonder if it was possible to freeze to death in the summertime in the middle of Georgia. She remembered how she'd snapped at Daryl that morning she'd woken up and found him using his own body heat to keep her warm, and she wished so hard that he was here now her heart twisted painfully in her chest. Then guilt flooded through regret, as she realized she'd thought of Daryl first instead of her own brother, Peter. She wondered if he would become one of the dead, walking around without a soul, and the very thought brought on the tears. Eventually she cried herself to sleep, biting her lips and burying her head in her arms in an effort to stay silent._

_She felt no better by morning, only hungry and still thirsty. But as the sun rose and cast light through the single narrow window, she searched the camper thoroughly and found two plastic bottles of water, three bag of peanuts and an old backpack with a broken zipper. The bleakness of her situation almost overwhelmed her again, and she spent a few moments fighting back tears before taking a deep breath and venturing outside again. She spread the map on the hood of the truck and spent some time trying to pinpoint her exact location based on how far she had walked yesterday. Soon enough, she realized she had absolutely no idea. But she knew which way was North, and she knew they'd been only twenty miles or so from Atlanta when the truck broke down. Atlanta was North, and she could walk twenty miles... couldn't she?_

_Two days later, she was still walking. Navigating unfamiliar roads in a vehicle was one thing, but on foot the traveler had little sense of distance and time, and Alexis was born with no sense of direction whatsoever. She was sure she was hopelessly lost, but kept on heading North and using the sun as her compass. Along the way she looted more empty cars, avoided walkers when she could and ran when she couldn't, then hid in whatever she could find that provided shelter at night. Sometimes she slept a couple hours or more, sometimes none at all. She found it easy enough to dodge walkers during the day, as long as she stuck to the highway and looked as far ahead as she could see, but at night it was a different story. She dared not risk a fire, even though she had to admit to herself that she had no idea how to make one anyway, so her nights were spent sleepless, cold and more alone than she'd ever been in her life. Just before dark on the fourth night she ventured off road as it began to rain and discovered a tiny hunter's cabin in the woods. Inside she found a small goldmine in the form of a large denim jacket, several shotguns with only six shells, and a machete that was rusting on one side. She also found the owner of the cabin, very dead and not likely to object at her taking what she wanted. _

_Exactly one week after Daryl and Merle Dixon had left her behind, she found herself standing less than two miles outside of Atlanta city limits. Exhausted, dehydrated, hungry, sunburned and almost completely numb from the journey out of Harmony, she looked at the long, two-way highway stretched out before her and she felt her already-heavy heart sink even lower. The Northbound side that led straight into the city was completely empty. No traffic, no roadblocks, no sign of any authority whatsoever. But considering what the "authorities" back in Harmony had done, she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad. The Southbound side was hopelessly jammed with abandoned cars, and completely impassable. Alexis lifted the binoculars she'd found in one of her many car-looting expeditions and focused in on the distant city, skyscrapers jutting up in what she hoped was a welcoming manner._

_There were no signs of movement to be seen anywhere, by her naked eye or through the binoculars. She had no idea if Daryl and Merle would have come this way, but she'd given up all hope of them finding her. Daryl had no doubt assumed she was dead, and she was sure Merle wouldn't have lost a moment's sleep over it. She had wavered back and forth between hating them both for leaving her alone and wishing with every ounce of her being that she'd find them again during her long walk. If Daryl Dixon were to pop out of one of those cars right this moment, she would likely punch him in the face and then crush him in a death-grip hug. Merle... well, she probably wouldn't do either to him._

_Alexis Reilly entered the city of Atlanta by crossing under the highway 85 overpass and walking straight up Martin Luther King Jr Drive. Complete silence greeted her. The eeriness of a major city with no traffic noise, people, airplanes overhead or other general noise that goes unnoticed to those who live with it every day was overwhelming, and she held the machete in her hand. She felt ridiculous brandishing such a weapon with palms so sweaty it threatened to slip easily from her grasp, and had no idea what exactly she would do with it if any walkers were around. But as she crossed Piedmont and found herself faced with an abandoned tank surrounded on all sides by slowly shuffling walkers, she knew she'd better figure out what to do with it pretty damned quick..._

Alexis woke with a start and for a moment couldn't remember where she was. The disoriented feeling of complete displacement was one she was sure she'd never get used to, even when the distant sound of a barking Chihuahua reached her ears. There were three of them living at Sunnydale nursing home, left behind by their owners who had passed away within the last few months. Guillermo made sure dog food was always on the list of supplies, although Alexis had to admit that most of the boys wouldn't be too heartbroken if the little monsters ran away. Even so, their tiny voices alerted everyone to danger in the form of the undead long before it came too near, so even their small existence served a valuable purpose.

Alexis had returned to the home after witnessing the Cowboy Cop's unfortunate demise at the hand of almost the entire population of Atlanta. Granted, his death was assumed, but Alexis couldn't imagine how he could possibly crawl out from under the tank while surrounded on all sides. She'd left the walkers to their feeding frenzy and reported straight back to Guillermo that there was a small arsenal of guns in the street. Guillermo's eyes had lit up in a way she'd never seen before, and he'd immediately called a meeting with the others to go and scout the area. Having gone several nights without sleep, Alexis had taken one of the empty beds and quite literally crashed for several hours.

As she woke now and took note of the late-afternoon slant of the sun peeking through the boarded-up windows, she imagined that the Vatos already had a plan in place. She pulled on Daryl's hand-me-down boots quickly, noticing that somebody had crept into the room as she slept and placed sticky-looking packaged cinnamon bun on the small bedside table. Miguel, she assumed, and smiled although she had no intention of eating the stale-looking treat. Felipe's cousin and the youngest of the former street gang, he was a sweet boy under his self-imposed toughness and nobody could help liking him. As she left the room, she slipped the pastry into her backpack. _Just in case._

The boys - although most of them had ceased to be boys a long time ago - were gathered in Guillermo's "office." She supposed it had belonged to some high-ranking staff member before all of the staff had evacuated and left their elderly charges behind. Guillermo had been elevated from a custodian to leader of a survival group almost overnight, and he accepted the responsibility without a single objection or complaint. Alexis was well aware that had she met him four months ago, she would have thought him no better than the dirt beneath her feet. The very thought shamed her to the bottom of her soul as she thought of Guillermo's quiet dignity and clear-cut sense of duty to those who looked up to him. It was not without a large degree of irony that the end of the world was required to bring out the best in humanity, right along with the worst.

"It's there, G." she heard Miguel saying as she walked down the long hallway. "Right where she said it was, on the ground in front of the tank."

"That's a bad neighborhood," Jorge said. "Too many walkers on a good day, and they've all been crowding around that building since they started shooting."

"Who's shooting?" Alexis asked as she came into the room. They all turned and looked at her, and Guillermo gave her his customary greeting nod.

"Don't know who," he said. "Looters in the department store, some crazy _vato _on the roof picking off walkers with a rifle. Can't get close enough to see."

"We should wait it out," Felipe said. "If they're trapped in there, they'll either make a run for it or run out of ammo. Either way, they're dead. The walkers will leave once it quiets down." The others all nodded, and Guillermo studied the floor thoughtfully as they talked among themselves for a moment.

"There's people trapped in the store?" Alexis said, reading his expression. "Shouldn't we try to help them?"

"We could," Guillermo shrugged. "But without those guns, we can't do much about it. Besides, we don't even know who they are. Could be some pretty bad dudes for all we know." Alexis knew he was right. The Vatos rarely turned anyone away who was truly in need, but they also weren't in the business of rescuing stranded looters. The survivals of the old ones were their first priority. But Alexis was a slave to her own curiosity, and she wanted to see if she could get a closer look at the looters before they joined the fate of so many others. Miguel caught up with her as she made her way through the back garden to the stronghold exit.

"Hold up," he called, waving as she paused to look back at him. "I'll go with you, just let me grab my stuff."

"No, stay here," she replied, and hoisted her pack up onto her back. "Felipe will need help today, Abuela's not feeling well and he's got his hands full with he others."

"You sure?" he asked, disappointment showing through even though he tried to hide it. "It's bad out that way, they're hungry as hell."

"I'll be okay," she smiled at him.

Two hours later she was back in Walker Central, a block away from the department store on the roof of the old library. Jorge was right, the walkers had not only completely surrounded the department store, they were hammering on the glass doors and display windows to get in. Even as she watched now, the main doors shattered and the walkers crowded through, only to be stopped by the inside foyer doors. She focused the binoculars closer and caught sight of movement inside, although she couldn't make out how many people were in there.

"Damn fools," she muttered under her breath, and then lowered the binoculars and looked down at the street. The bag of guns was of no interest whatsoever to the walkers, and would lay where it was until a living person picked it up. But there were so many walkers on the street, there was no way anyone could get to it. She decided to move to a closer higher position to watch for awhile longer, and climbed down the fire escape ladder of the library. An office building almost directly across from the department store was the best choice, but it took her another hour to circle around the walker hot spots to reach it and get inside just as thunder rippled overhead and it began to rain. _Oh, perfect._

She took some time to safely navigate the stairs to the roof. She'd never been inside this building before, and she hated scouting new locations no matter how many times she did it. But the building was equipped with solid fire doors on every floor, and by not opening them she was sure that any walkers that might have been trapped in the offices beyond the stairwell would stay there. It was a small reassurance, but small was better than none.

By the time she reached the roof, the brief rainstorm had thankfully passed, and she heard what could only be a car alarm echoing through the streets. It happened a lot when she'd first arrived in the city. Walkers were always bumping into parked cars and setting them off, and they would blare for a day and sometimes longer depending on the strength of the batteries that charged them. Alexis hadn't heard one in weeks, though, and it seemed very out of place. What was even more out of place was the fact that it seemed to be coming closer. She reached for the binoculars again, but found she didn't need them as the source of the alarm came screaming around the corner a couple blocks up. Tires screeching, the bright red Charger spun in a perfect 360, burning rubber and making as much noise as possible. It came to a stop right in front of the department store, the driver leaning heavily on the horn. Alexis watched in a mixture of anxiety and amazement as the walkers began to follow the car as it backed slowly away.

_He's leading them away... they're creating a diversion... when did looters get so smart?_ She realized she was smiling as the car's engine revved loudly and picked up speed as the walkers reached it and began pounding on the hood. The driver kept his speed under control, though, not giving into panic and allowing the walkers to surround him, then pushing through to keep them off him. More movement out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to the left to see a large white cube van turning down the side street, no doubt heading for the back door. The red Charger took off then, screaming safely away and leaving the echo of the alarm behind, the walkers scrambling to catch up. She had no doubt the rest of them were making a run for it out the back door, and nobody was going for the bag of guns. She wondered if they even knew it was there.

As the sound of the car alarm faded into the distance, Alexis watched the confused walkers milling around, but then saw that several of them were inside the department store building. They'd obviously broken through the last set of doors as she moved to the office building, and she hoped they were too late. Even as the thought ran through her head, she saw the white van exiting the same side street it had gone down moments before, speeding away towards the highway. She breathed a sigh of relief and wished the anonymous looters luck even as she wondered how to get to that bag of guns. But then the sound of a human voice reached her ears, and she frowned as she realized it was coming from the direction of the department store. Somebody was shouting inside, and the sound was drawing the closest walkers' attention back to the store. _No... not inside. It's too loud._ She couldn't make out the exact words, but somebody was screaming in what sounded like absolute rage... and that screaming was making the walkers swarm inside at an alarming rate.

She moved to the west corner of the building and spotted movement up on the roof of the department store. Somebody was on the roof, somebody they'd left behind. She snatched up the binoculars and focused them on the single figure, sitting on the ground next to a line of outdoor water pipes. At first she thought he was injured, but then he suddenly started pulling and yanking hard at the pipes, pulling back and kicking at them with both feet. She saw then that he was handcuffed there, and her blood ran cold. Whoever this unfortunate soul was, his companions had handcuffed him and left him on the roof of a building completely surrounded by walkers. She could hear him now, cursing loudly and vowing to kill every last one of them. As she watched in helpless horror, the man threw his head back and howled wordless rage and frustration into the sky, and she got a good look at his face.

"Holy shit," she said out loud, a little louder than she'd intended. "Holy _SHIT_."

It was Merle Dixon.

* * *

><p>Daryl sat still, watching as the sun began to set. Light slanted through the trees at low angles, bringing the immediate sense of peace to the woods that he craved on a daily basis. He'd hunted every day since they'd arrived at what had come to be known as Base Camp, keeping his trips short and close to the camp. But the overnights were the ones he looked forward to the most, because they allowed him the chance to find true solitude, away from the other people in the camp and their stupid, annoying daily problems. The women discovering creative ways to cook and clean without the tools of modern civilization, the kids alternating between loud games and fits of crying, Dale and his ridiculous hat droning on about books and intellectual bullshit, that girl Amy and her constant wishing for things to go back to the way they were... the only people Daryl could stand were Jim and Merle. Jim because he rarely talked about anything, and Merle just because he was Merle.<p>

But lately even Merle was pissing him off every time he opened his mouth. He was snorting again, Daryl was sure of it. He couldn't imagine where he'd found the stuff, but Merle's ability to locate any drug he could put up his nose even during an apocalypse was not to be underestimated. Merle had been silent about the Alexis episode for a couple weeks, but when he'd decided to bring it up the discussion had ended with Shane and Morales dragging Daryl off his brother before somebody got killed. The whole camp was watching this time, and Merle explained his brother's bad behavior on the fact that he didn't have anyone to fuck since she'd been eaten by walkers. Daryl only remembered seeing red at that, and whatever he did caused everyone to steer clear of him from that point on. Worse, he'd seen pity in Carol's eyes whenever she looked at him, and that made him even angrier. T-Dog and Jacqui both made an effort to be friendly, but Daryl made it clear that was never going to happen. Glenn avoided him with obvious discomfort in his eyes, and Daryl spotted weakness immediately. Ed was an asshole to everyone, so it was easy to not like him.

When Merle left to go scavenging in the city, a peace of sorts had settled over the camp. Daryl knew his own presence was the reason there was still tension, and he knew Shane was still keeping an eye on him, ready for him to explode again. But he kept him at bay by hinting at what he'd seen him doing with Lori in the woods on more than one occasion. Daryl didn't particularly care if those two wanted to screw like rabbits every chance they got, but for some reason they wanted it to be a secret and that was fine with him. Daryl couldn't completely blame Shane for worrying about him going off on someone. He'd felt like a tinderbox ever since he saw Lex lying dead in the barn that day, her guts spread out all around her and face torn beyond any recognition. All it would take was a spark to make him combust, and that memory alone was a big spark. He didn't even really know why... when he'd first met her she was an annoying, uptight bitch who looked down her nose at everything and everyone. As they'd traveled together she'd not complained or showed any fear of getting her hands dirty. She was smart enough for her own world, but dumb as a bag of rocks when it came to surviving a shitstorm. Daryl had felt sorry for after her brother died, and during the times when she wasn't pissing him off she often said things that made him smile, although he always hid that from her. But that night at the general store when she'd gotten so drunk she couldn't stop crying...

Daryl's thoughts broke off as he heard rustling in the woods just beyond the rocky outcropping he'd chosen as a vantage point. It was getting dusky, which would make it hard to spot walkers if any were in the area. It wasn't likely to happen, they all seemed content to stay in the city, but Daryl kept his sharp senses focused until the source of the sound came into view. A half smile spread across his face as a medium-sized male deer came into view. He could almost hear his stomach growling as he thought of venison steaks... rabbit and squirrel worked just fine, but they would only go so far. He silently fitted an arrow into the crossbow and took careful aim as the animal stood still, then came straight towards him.

As he fired the first shot, the deer sensed the danger at the last moment and bolted. The arrow stuck him squarely in the rump as he moved away, and Daryl leaped off the rock, smiling at the prospect of a long chase.


	14. A Problem in Atlanta

**A/N: Warning:** Graphic violence ahead. Again.

_Looking at my own reflection_  
><em>When suddenly it changes<em>  
><em>Violently it changes<em>  
><em>Oh no, there is no turning back now<em>  
><em>You've woken up the demon in me<em>

_Get up, come on get down with the sickness_  
><em>Get up, come on get down with the sickness<em>  
><em>Get up, come on get down with the sickness<em>  
><em>Open up your hate, and let it flow into me<em>  
><em>Get up, come on get down with the sickness<em>  
><em>You mother get up Come on get down with the sickness<em>  
><em>You fucker get up Come on get down with the sickness<em>  
><em>Madness is the gift, that has been given to me<em>

* * *

><p><strong>A Problem in Atlanta<strong>

Alexis spent the entire night on the roof of the office building, watching and waiting for the sun to come up. To attempt to reach Merle in pitch darkness was not an option, and his continued shouting and raging was attracting the attention of the walkers that hadn't wandered off to follow the red car. Alexis debated briefly trying to shout across to him, but she didn't want to add to the noise. As the night grew darker he quieted down, and soon she could hear nothing at all. Alexis hoped his silence was due to sleep and not death.

As she waited for the night to end, her thoughts raced in confusion as multiple possible scenarios presented themselves to her. Merle was alive, which meant Daryl very likely was alive as well... but if Daryl was with the group of looters, there was no way Merle would have been left behind alone. Even if it meant both of them missed their ride out of the city, he would have stayed. So he hadn't been with them on their trip to the store... which meant he might be coming to find Merle soon. Surely the others would tell him what had happened... wouldn't they? Or maybe Daryl was dead and she was just wasting time sitting here wondering about it. _Shit. _

Indecisiveness momentarily overwhelmed her. She might be able to find out where that red car had gone... maybe they weren't far away at all. She could go back and get Guillermo to rally some help. But leaving Merle trapped up on the roof for any extended period of time did not seem the best option. If the walkers didn't reach him, he'd be suffering from exposure to the cold night, and then severe dehydration under the hot Atlanta sun would be the next danger. Under these combined circumstances, he probably wouldn't last a day. Even an asshole like Merle Dixon deserved a chance to survive, if for no other reason than he had a brother who cared about him. If Daryl lived, nothing would stop him from getting here, but whether or not he lived was the most uncertain factor. If not, Merle was on his own. Nobody would come back for him, and he was going to die like an animal in a trap.

By the time the sun rose, Alexis had slept for about twenty minutes_, _huddled under her jacket for warmth. Everything was still quiet across the street, and as she stood and looked down she saw that the street was much clearer than yesterday. The walkers still shuffled about, but they had no obvious direction. Without stimulation, they did nothing. She'd seen some sitting down from time to time, but she'd decided that was simply because there was nothing in the form of sound or smell to give them a reason to move. Even when up and walking around aimlessly, they were always reacting to something, even something as small as the wind blowing a piece of trash in front of them. The higher the level of stimulation, the more aggressive they became. The smell of blood sent them into a full frenzy, like sharks in the wild. They could smell it for miles, and would always walk towards it, no matter how long it would take them to reach the source. But now... they were just walking. Some wandered in circles, others chose a direction at random and moved their feet. Alexis watched their movements for a little while, trying to spot a pattern of some kind and finding none. She then looked through the binoculars across to Merle's rooftop. He was still there, sitting still with his head turned away from her. She watched him for several more moments, slightly concerned that he wasn't moving at all, but then he raised his head and looked up at the sky, shading his eyes with his free hand.

"Okay, asshole," she said out loud, as if Merle could hear her. "You're going to owe me big time."

* * *

><p><strong>Survivor Base Camp<strong>

Deputy Sheriff Rick Grimes awoke to the sounds and smells of camping. Keeping his eyes closed meant he could pretend that's exactly what he was doing - camping with his family in a national park or preferred vacation spot. A campfire burned somewhere nearby, people talked in calm tones about things like fishing and hunting, and somewhere he could hear children playing. It was a luxury, the ability to pretend that the last few weeks had been nothing but a terrible nightmare. But pretending was an ability Rick did not possess, and he grudgingly rose from the cot he'd shared with his wife, Lori last night.

His arrival at Base Camp had been a truly amazing moment, for those who had believed him to be long dead, and for those who had watched the tearful reunion between husband, wife and child. Hope rekindled in that moment, even if only in small amounts, for everyone. Even Shane's good ol' boy exterior had wavered, and Rick thought he might forever replay the scene in his own head. But as he dressed in the clothes Lori had left folded in a neat pile for him, he couldn't help but think about the man they'd left behind.

After escaping from the tank and making an insanely desperate dash to the department store with Glenn, Rick had been rather abruptly introduced to the other survivors, including Merle Dixon, who was enjoying a rather high-powered cocaine rush by shooting at walkers from the roof top. The fact that he hit everything he aimed at earned him no respect points whatsoever, and Rick found himself intervening to prevent Merle from getting them all killed by forcefully subduing him and handcuffing him to the support beam of the rooftop water pipes. As the loudmouthed buffoon continued to spout threats and verbal toxic waste, Rick wondered if he would have to shoot him when he was uncuffed again. But that never came to be an option.

During the chaotic, desperate dash to freedom from the department store, T-Dog dropped the key to the handcuffs down a drainpipe. Panicked and horrified, he'd had only seconds to make a decision and chose to run for his life, leaving Merle behind. He'd had the foresight to stop and chain the stairwell door closed, providing Merle with some defense from the walkers if they made their way that far. Even so, the man was mortified by what he'd done, the fact that Merle calling him a _nigger_ had been what started the brawl in the first place had no effect on his own sense of guilt. But nobody blamed him, and nobody seemed to care that the hate-mongering redneck had been left behind. But it was soon pointed out that his brother certainly would care, and when he returned from his hunting trip there would be hell to pay. That wasn't what concerned Rick so much as the fact that he'd left a human being trapped and left to die a horrible death. They had to go back for him, there was just no argument to be had. He only hoped he wouldn't have to fight to get help in doing so.

Rick left the tent and walked up the narrow dirt path to where most of the others were gathered. Glenn stood watching as his companions stripped his newly acquired hot rod for parts, taking the tires, siphoning the gas and even popping the hood for spark plugs, air filters and other valuable items that would keep the other vehicles running.

"Vultures," Glenn said, his expression sour. Rick came to stand behind him as Glenn folded his arms and glared at them. "Go on, strip it clean," he said angrily.

"Generators won't run without gas," Dale smiled as he carried two full gas cans towards the RV. "Sorry, Glenn."

"I thought I might at least get to drive it for a few more days," Glenn grumbled to Rick.

"Maybe we'll get to steal another one," Rick smiled, and patted the young man on the back before walking over to where Lori stood, hanging clothes on a rack formed out of thin branches tied at the corners.

* * *

><p>Daryl's hopes for venison waxed and waned throughout the night as the deer led him on a chase that went on for miles. He'd been forced to stop for awhile and wait for the moon to rise to its highest point, simply because he couldn't see where he was going, but by the time the earliest morning light began to peek through he was on its trail again. He'd hit it twice more with arrows by then, and he knew the animal was finally beginning to slow.<p>

As the sun rose it became easier to track, leaving a blood trail that an untrained eye might have missed. But Daryl watched the ground as he moved, noticing blood drops on dried leaves, broken twigs and trampled underbrush. He'd stayed to the side as much as possible, driving his quarry in a wide circle, and by the time the sun was up he'd driven it back in the direction of the camp. He hoped the deer would be spooked by the presence of people and run back towards him. It would take a more central shot to bring it down, the hits on the rump served to weaken it gradually but the natural adrenaline rush could keep it running for days if necessary.

The deer crashed into a think tangle of bushes, and Daryl caught sight of it as it struggled for freedom. They'd both been running all night, ignoring exhaustion and thirst. Predator and prey were now in a final sprint to the finish line, and Daryl smiled as that thrill shot through his chest again. He loved this part, the last few minutes of the hunt when the end was in sight but still completely unpredictable. If the deer bolted East, he would lose it in the woods again, and they'd be having squirrel for dinner. But if it continued straight ahead, it would run into a clearing just outside the camp, and find itself trapped by a steep slope to the side, people ahead and a hunter behind.

"Got you," Daryl growled as the deer made the wrong - or right - decision and bolted straight ahead towards the clearing. He abandoned quiet movements and ran full speed as he lost sight of the deer. It took a few long moments for him to move around the thick bushes that had entangled the deer, and climb a wide but low rocky hill where he often camped on the return trip to Base Camp. He frowned as he heard noise up ahead, people shouting and those damned kids screaming again. The little bastards were going to spook it right back into the woods, he realized, and charged forward into the clearing. As he pushed through the lower branches of a young tree, he stopped short, freezing in place at the sight of a shotgun pointing straight at his face. Daryl let his eyes run up the barrel until they met Shane's and the man lowered the weapon with a sigh.

Daryl frowned in confusion, then saw his deer lying on the ground next to the headless corpse of a walker.

"Sonofa_BITCH_," he shouted loudly and stalked into the clearing to glare at the chewed-up remains of the deer. "That's _my_ deer!" he said angrily, as if the walker that had killed it could hear and understand the accusation. He stormed in and yanked the arrows out of the deer's hide, furious as his last hopes for venison slipped away. Shane, Jim, Dale, Morales, and a guy he'd never seen before made way for him, and he saw Andrea and Amy watching from behind the bushes at the edge of the clearing. The walker had surprised them all by not hitting any of the trip wires surrounding the area, and Daryl realized that it may have been following the same blood trail that he was.

"Been trackin' 'im for miles," he seethed. "Was gonna drag 'im back to camp and cook us up some venison. Look at it now, all _gnawed_ on by this disease-bearin' lowlife motherless bastard!" he kicked the dead walker furiously as he shouted, and the others drew back, exchanging nervous looks.

"Take it easy, son," Dale was holding an axe, a strange contrast to his attempt to use a soothing tone on the hot-tempered Dixon. "That's not going to help."

"What do you know about it?" Daryl snapped, striding towards him threateningly and stopping only when Shane put up a hand between them. "You just take that stupid hat and go back to _On Golden Pond_!"

"Easy now," said Shane, and Daryl glared at him, then turned his attention back to the deer. He wondered briefly if they could cut out the chewed-up parts and eat the rest anyway, but even as he thought it he knew it was not an option.

"Well, I got some squirrel," he said after a moment of angry silence, and brandished the rope with a dozen or so small animals strung on it. "That'll have to do." He looked at the group and wondered why they were all staring at him like that. The new guy he'd never seen before was studying him like he was some new breed of animal, and it made Daryl both uncomfortable and angry. He opened his mouth to ask him who the hell he was what he was staring at, but the walker's head suddenly moved, startling everyone by opening it's mouth like a fish gasping for air. Andrea and Amy promptly departed in disgust.

"Come on, people... what the hell?" Daryl said, feeling as if he was surrounded by morons. He stepped forward and put a single shot between its eyes, then bent and pulled the arrow loose with a messy, juicy _crunch_. "It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothin?" He walked away, heading back up to the camp and calling Merle's name.

"Hey, Daryl slow up a bit. I need to talk to you." Shane hurried to catch up with him, and Daryl turned, watching him approach with a frown.

"What about?" he asked, instantly suspicious. He looked around and realized the entire camp had gathered, and were watching from a distance. Carol stood off to the side, folding clothes and looking at him with that expression of pity in her eyes again. T-Dog had just come out of the woods with his arms full of firewood, and was staring at him with wide, anxious eyes. Glenn looked at the ground as Daryl glanced at him, and Morales returned his gaze with... was that sympathy? _What the fuck?_

Daryl felt something quiver in his stomach as he realized everyone who had gone to Atlanta was present, everyone except Merle.

"There was a problem in Atlanta," Shane said quietly.

* * *

><p><strong>Atlanta<strong>

Alexis didn't dare try to enter the department store and use the stairwell to the roof. From her vantage point across the street she could see walkers shuffling in and out, but she had no way of knowing how many were inside. She couldn't understand why they hadn't found their way up the stairs to the roof from inside, surely they'd heard Merle shouting and could easily find him. But she felt like she was out of time, and couldn't waste any more trying to figure things out. She hurried down the stairs of the office building and exited out the back, immediately encountering two walkers in the rear parking lot.

The first walked straight into her sideways swing, and the machete cut through its neck cleanly, almost severing its head. As it collapsed in front of her she hacked at the neck twice and bit back the urge to throw up at the sound of its head separating from its body. As the second one lunged towards her, she sidestepped quickly and squeezed between two parked cars to avoid it. The walker followed clumsily and got momentarily caught on one of the rear view mirrors, but she was long gone by the time it pulled free. She used the alleys as she always did, moving between garbage cans and dumpsters quickly and as quietly as possible. Always the long route, she mused as she made the widest possible berth around the walkers in the streets.

Soon she reached the back of the department store and darted down the side alley. Just as she'd hoped, there was a fire escape on the side of the building, its ladder pulled up just beyond her reach. She climbed up on the dumpster and grabbed hold of the ladder, then flinched as its rusty hinges squealed in protest. She pulled harder with a grunt and the ladder rolled down, hitting the pavement with a loud clang. _Good thing this isn't Texas, 'cause I couldn't sneak in if I was a ninja. _She climbed the ladder to the first landing and looked back to see several walkers wandering onto the alley. She tried to pull the ladder back up, but it was rusty from misuse and refused to cooperate, so she abandoned the idea and hoped walkers hadn't figured out how to climb yet.

The department store building was only three stories high, but Alexis was still winded from the climb when she reached the top. She paused long enough to catch a few breaths, then ran across the roof and started to climb around the large air vents that blocked her view from where Merle had been sitting.

"Merle!" she shouted as she cleared the first vent and grabbed hold of the second. He didn't answer, so she shouted again. As she cleared the second vent unit and jumped to the ground, she stopped short and stared in amazement. He was gone. Not lying down out of sight or being Merle and hiding from her behind the pipes, he was really_ gone_. She stood there in total confusion and looked around the rooftop, seeing no sign of him. Somehow he'd gotten loose, and escaped his rooftop prison himself. Torn between annoyance and worry, she hurried over to the stairwell door and pulled on the handle. It opened less than six inches and then stopped, and she saw that it had been chained and padlocked from the other side. He couldn't have gone inside, but for the same reason nothing could have gotten _out_.

She crossed the rooftop to the edge and looked down, not sure what she expected to see, then noticed another stairway door at the far end. This one stood open, as if inviting her to come inside. She found herself in an odd position now. Her intent had been to get Merle loose and then go back to wherever he came from with him... if he would let her. But now her mission had come to an unexpected hurdle, and... _what the hell is that?_

Alexis stared at the spot where Merle had been sitting all night, and felt something icy cold and shivery run up her spine. She walked forward slowly, praying to whatever god was up there that the thing she was looking at wasn't what she thought it was. As she drew closer, she felt the nausea rise in her stomach again, and it tasted like Miguel's stale cinnamon bun. The handcuffs were still there, locked in place and dangling free from the pipe's support beam. To the side lay an old dull-looking hacksaw, and both were dripping with very fresh blood. It dripped form the handcuffs onto the inanimate object below, and she forced herself to take a good look. His hand. Merle's right hand ended at the wrist, and lay there looking strangely lost and downright pitiful. _Oh my god... he cut off his own hand..._

The sound of breaking glass jolted her out of her horrified thoughts, and she ran to the far edge of the building and looked down in time to see Merle climbing out of a window on the floor just below and onto another fire escape.

"Merle!" she shouted without thinking. "Merle, wait!" He either didn't hear her or didn't care, and as he jumped twenty feet to the alley below she was already through the open stairwell and running down as fast as she could. She tried not to wonder what kind of thoughts might run through a person's head while he was sawing through his own wrist as she ran. She hit the ground level fire exit door hard and hit the alley running, then suddenly found herself in the street with no idea which way he'd run.

"Dammit!" She hissed, and opened her mouth to shout his name again, but walkers moving towards her on the right made her swallow the shout immediately. She turned left and started running, continuing for a full block before turning into an alley she recognized. It was long and led to another on the right, and she ran faster without pausing to think about what might be ahead. Too late, she realized the dangerous situation she'd allowed herself to run blindly into, and she stopped short, feeling her feet skid on the pavement that was still damp from the rain.

"Oh, _shit_!" she said out loud as three banditos appeared in front of her, and she reached for the shotgun in her backpack. But she was already surrounded, and hands grabbed at her from behind, snatching the weapon away as another twisting her left wrist until she dropped the machete.

"Well," one of them stepped forward, and she saw greasy blondish hair, a crooked nose and missing front teeth. "Look at what we have here, boys. I remember _this _one." His heavy southern drawl was instantly familiar, and she stood still, fighting back the fearful memories of her first day in Atlanta as the five men formed a circle around her. She cursed her own stupidity for blundering into danger so blindly, but swallowed hard and looked their leader straight in the eye.

"Come on, Beau," she said, fighting to keep her voice light and unconcerned. "I told you before, it's never going to work between us." Beau's companions laughed, the sound harsh and dangerous. Alexis had barely escaped from them with her life before, and Beau clearly hadn't forgotten that she'd kicked out his front teeth while doing so. But they'd been unprepared for a fight that time, and underestimated her will to not become just another one of their conquests. They wouldn't make that mistake again, and the realization that she wasn't getting out of this one easily sickened her.

"You bitch," Beau said. "When we're done with you, yer gonna wish the walkers got you first." The two men holding her tightly from behind laughed again, and she instantly felt violated as one of them ground his crotch against her backside. She felt her arm muscles tense involuntarily as Beau grabbed her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him as he pressed his filthy body up against her. She tried not to gasp as he moved his hand to her neck and squeezed, and he grinned as he saw fear in her eyes. The other two behind him leered at her, one of them actually licking his lips as they stood back and watched.

"Fuck you," Alexis grunted defiantly, and Beau pulled back and slapped her hard across the face.

Her head snapped to the side, and he hit her again before she'd recovered from the first. She tasted blood on her lip, but spat it back in his face almost immediately. Beau hit her a third time, and Alexis' vision blurred as they tore her backpack off her back and threw her down onto the wet concrete. Arms momentarily free, she slammed the edge of her palm straight up into the nose of the nearest one, feeling the satisfying crunch as it broke. She jerked her left knee up into a crotch and dug her nails into a face, but a fist slammed her in the cheekbone and the world went black for the space of a few seconds as her conscious mind started to slip away. Reality snapped back when Beau started to rip at the buttons of her jeans and another pair of hands pulled at her t-shirt while two more pinned her wrists to the ground. She heard a voice howling in frustration as hands groped under her shirt, but didn't realize it was her own voice until a rough, dirty hand slammed down over her lips to muffle her cries.

_No, not this... anything but this... please god you can feed me to the walkers if you want me to die. Just please not this...!_

She screamed in muffled fury and terror as Beau flipped her over on her stomach and grabbed a handful of her hair. "I owe you one, bitch," he snarled in her ear, and panic rose in her throat as he pressed down on her shoulders to hold her in place as he yanked at her jeans until they started to slip down over her hips. He clamped a hand over her mouth again as she started to scream once more, fury and frustration giving way to helplessness. She squeezed her eyes shut and her vision blurred again as consciousness start to slip away.

"Get the fuck off her!" A new voice suddenly broke in through the deranged laughter of the men making sport of her body. She was dimly aware of shouting, confusion and then cries of pain, and the hands that were holding her suddenly withdrew. She rolled away and crawled a few feet, desperate to escape the chaos behind her even as she reassembled her clothing. Suddenly there were hands on her again, and she screamed as they gripped her shoulders, kicking out desperately at whoever was behind her.

"Angelita! Angelita, stop! Be quiet, there's walkers close by!" The sound of the name jolted her into awareness, and she turned to stare in amazement at Jorge as he hauled her to her feet and held her firmly to keep her from falling down again. Five bodies littered the alley behind him, and she saw Miguel and Felipe taking turns kicking one of them and hitting him with baseball bats until he stopped moving.

"Motherfuckers," Felipe spat on the motionless body, then turned to gesture at Jorge and Alexis. "Come on, let's go." Miguel ran forward and grabbed her wrist, and she stumbled after him, dizzy and confused. The four of them ran to the car that was parked at the end of the alley, engine still running. Felipe physically pushed her into the back seat as Jorge jumped into the driver's seat and Miguel hurried to the passenger side.

"Walkers!" Felipe shouted as he climbed in behind Alexis and slammed the door on a grasping dead hand. Jorge slammed the car into gear and floored the gas pedal, knocking the walkers aside as they barreled through the crowd.

"Jesus," Miguel breathed as soon as they were clear and speeding back to Sunnydale. "That was fucking intense. I _told_ you it was dangerous - " he turned around to look at Alexis, but she was slumped sideways and unconscious on the seat. Felipe leaned over her and carefully turned her face so he could lift her eyelids and look at her eyes.

"She's okay," he said quickly. "She just fainted."

"Fuck fainting, _homies_," said Jorge. "I almost shit my pants."

* * *

><p><strong>Song lyrics:<strong> Disturbed, _Down With the Sickness_


	15. Not Dead

**A/N: **Whew. That last chapter was a bit harsh. Everyone seems to be in a big hurry for the big reunite... are you sure that's even going to happen? Maybe some nice, soothing poetry would settle everything down a bit. Just because it's the apocalypse doesn't mean we can't have poetry, right? No? All right, if you insist... just remember, good things come to those who wait... oh, never mind.

_How many more will cross my path_  
><em>How many more must die<em>  
><em>I never wonder where they come from<em>  
><em>I never wonder why<em>  
><em>You don't know what's going on inside of me<em>  
><em>You don't wanna know what's running through my mind,<em>

_You wake up every morning thinking everything's okay_  
><em>But if by chance you walk my way you just may seal your fate<em>

_Shake my head, wake the dead_  
><em>Run for your life you better run for your life<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Atlanta<strong>  
><strong>Summerdale Nursing Home<strong>

Guillermo hadn't slept all night, and as morning crept towards noon, it was starting to wear on him. Ever since he'd received word of a large bag of weapons lying on the ground in downtown Atlanta, he'd been obsessed with finding a way to get them. Angelita had gone off on her own as always to check out the department store, and ended up getting herself in the worst sort of trouble possible. It bothered him enormously because she'd never been one he really had to worry about. Like everyone else in his extended family, she was tough, strong and able to look after herself. But she was also one person, and against five she'd not have stood a chance alone. She'd been gone all night when Miguel started to worry, and initially Guillermo had laughed and told him to relax. She'd been gone for days at a time before, and there was no reason to believe this time was any different.

But when a scouting party of four returned with two dead and reported that the banditos were on the move in their neighborhood, Guillermo began to worry too. Not only for her safety, but for those guns lying out in the open for anyone to take. If those bastards got their hands on them, Sunnydale would be finished the next time they attacked. So he'd sent Miguel with Jorge and Felipe to find Angelita, and also instructed them to see if that bag was still there and could be reached yet. They'd returned hours later, and he thought his worst fears would become truth when he hurried down to the bricked courtyard in time to see Jorge carrying her motionless body inside.

Felipe's medical training was limited, but as the former Special Care Provider for the elderly residents, he was the only one qualified to do anything for her. Even so, all he could really do was check her vital signs, make sure nothing was broken and treat her for shock. Physically, she was fine, aside from some nasty bruises and what would surely be a bad headache when she woke up. Felipe set her up in the small emergency care ward, closed the gash on her head with four stitches and taped her bruised and possibly cracked ribs. She was going to hurt for quite some time, but she wasn't badly or permanently injured. Felipe stepped out as his Abuela insisted that she be the one to care for her beloved Angelita as soon as he was finished. She remained unconscious for the rest of the day, and the Vatos left her in Abuela's compassionate if not fully capable hands.

Miguel gave a full report on what had happened, although none of them could explain what she was doing running around in the back alleys. They could only guess that the walkers had chased her there, and it was blind luck that they'd been close enough to hear her shouting when the banditos attacked her. They'd killed four of them, and the last would likely be walker feed by now. Guillermo finally addressed the issue that none of them seemed to want to bring up, and asked point-blank if she'd been raped. The question was met with complete silence, until Miguel spoke up and said he didn't think so. Guillermo sighed heavily and hoped the five of them had lived long enough to experience what it was like to be eaten alive by the walkers. The issue was dropped, and Guillermo pulled everyone together to start making plans for retrieving the bag of guns.

* * *

><p>"He better be okay," Daryl said darkly, fixing his gaze on T-Dog as they rode in the back of the cube van back into the Atlanta city limits. "That's my only word on the matter." T-Dog sighed, not missing the dead-seriousness and underlying threat behind Daryl's tone.<p>

"Look, man," he said. "I told you, I chained the door so the geeks couldn't get at him." Daryl said nothing, only rested his head against the wall behind him and stared at him steadily as the van bounced along.

In the driver's seat, Glenn glanced sideways at Rick and noted his grim expression. If they got up there on that roof and found Merle in any other state other than alive and kicking, things would get ugly real fast. Daryl had predictably blown his top when the news of Merle being left behind was broken to him. Shane had physically restrained him while Rick did his best to talk sense into him, but Glenn couldn't be sure if it was sense that finally made Daryl pull himself together and agree to work with the group to bring his brother back. He'd placed full blame for Merle's situation on T-Dog, and the tension in the air between them was so thick it was giving Glenn a headache. It didn't matter to Daryl one bit that T-Dog had volunteered to go along.

_My day just keeps getting better and better, _Daryl had grumbled.

_You see anybody else stepping up to save your brother's cracker ass? _T-Dog had replied.

_Yeah, but why __**you? **_Daryl grumbled.

_You couldn't begin to understand._ T-Dog had simply answered. _You don't speak my language_.

Glenn was pretty sure Merle didn't speak that language, either, and he dreaded what would happen when T-Dog was confronted by both brothers. With Rick there to keep them on track, it could be okay. But sooner or later Rick might not be there to step in, and there was no telling what they might do then.

Soon they were just inside the city limits, and Glenn pulled the van into the old train yard, parking it next to the tracks.

"Okay, we walk from here," he said to the group.

"Merle first, or guns?" Rick asked as they exited the van and started to move together on foot.

"Merle," Daryl said loudly. "We're not even having this discussion!"

"No no no," Glenn broke in as Rick started to argue. "He's right. We get Merle first, he's on the way. Then we can get the guns and come straight back here."

* * *

><p>"<em>I owe you one, bitch." The whisper dripped with venom, and Alexis fought against the terror that threatened to overwhelm and take control of her mind. For a brief, dark moment she looked into the face of insanity and found it looking right back at her. She'd been here before, outnumbered and about to become a victim of the one thing she'd been so careful to avoid for all the years she lived in the city. She'd walked the streets of Boston armed with a can of mace and the general knowledge of how to defend herself from a faceless attacker, and not once in all those years had she ever had cause to use any of it. <em>

"_A throat punch," Peter had once said. "You simply cannot go wrong with a throat punch." I should have remembered that. I should have punched the bastard in the throat before he even got close._

_I can't keep pretending that just because I know where I am means I'm not lost. Pretending I'm strong just isn't working anymore. I can't take what I once thought, who I used to be and how I used to live, whittle it into something else and craft a new personality. You just can't do that. It's the big stick that I carry to keep myself safe... and if left to my own devices I'll just end up beating myself with it. The memories of what we used to be are just like dead skin, separated from the body and falling away. It's pulling away in small bits at first, but over time, wounds will form unless something grows up in its place. I keep one finger pointed towards hope in the distance... numb skin wanting to grow again. Just one light switch always left on, just in case someone needs it. But I need it. I can't stay here anymore. I want to go home._

_But what appears as strength is often weakness, and the reverse... at our most vulnerable we are our bravest. I don't even know what I'm saying. What does that even mean? Jesus, I sound like Mr. Miyagi. That's me... all the answers to the mysteries of the cosmos and the spiritual agility of a soap dish... But Mr. Miyagi didn't teach the Karate Kid to believe in himself. He taught him how to kick people in the fucking head..._

"I'm dreaming," Alexis decided, and was surprised by the sound of her own voice. If she was dreaming, she wouldn't be able to hear herself speak.

"It's only a dream, _Angelita_," a soft voice replied, thick with a Hispanic accent. Something cool and damp pressed against her forehead. "A bad dream that will go away when you wake up."

"Abuela," she muttered, and opened her eyes to see the elderly woman smiling down at her. She was dabbing at her forehead with a wet cloth, something grandmothers always seemed to do even though it served no real purpose.

"The boys brought you back," Abuela spoke quietly, and Alexis was grateful to her for that. Her head ached as if something insanely large and heavy had been dropped on it. The wet cloth would have been soothing if she wasn't feeling abnormally cold at that moment, but she held back the complaint because it seemed to make the old woman happy to be doing something that felt helpful.

"How long was I asleep?" Alexis started to sit up, but a sharp pain through her side made her gasp and bite her lip.

"Since they brought you back yesterday," said a voice from the doorway, and Alexis looked up to see Guillermo standing there. He was frowning at her face, but softened his expression quickly as Abuela turned and smiled at him.

"She's better now," she said. "But I think she has a fever. Do we have medicine?"

Alexis gave Guillermo a small smile and shook her head. Abuela thought everyone had a fever anytime something went wrong, and insisted that the cold damp cloth was an absolute requirement.

"Felipe has medicine, Abuela. He's busy now, but I'll tell him to bring some soon, okay?"

"He is a good boy," Abuela said, and Alexis nodded in agreement. "Oh, it's late... I have to feed the dogs. Keep this on, and don't take it off," Abuela commanded, and firmly pressed the wet cloth to Alexis' forehead before hurrying out of the room.

Alexis immediately removed the cloth and moved herself into a sitting position. Guillermo came into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Careful," Alexis warned. "I have a fever."

"You'll live," Guillermo replied. "But we've got problems."

"And this is new?"

"Not really... but it could get worse. Felipe went out with Jorge, Miguel and a few others to get those guns. They ran into some trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Alexis watched his face closely, feeling dread start to creep into her heart.

"Someone else wanted those guns. They jumped Miguel in an alley and took him. Felipe and Jorge tried to stop them, but Felipe got shot in the ass and then they had to run because the walkers were all over them."

She sat for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was saying. _They took Miguel. Who took Miguel... and whatever for?_

"Banditos?" she said, a quick flash of fear running through her chest as an image of a face with a crooked nose and broken teeth rose up into her mind. But Guillermo was shaking his head.

"I don't think so. They took Miguel, but Felipe and Jorge grabbed one of theirs, brought him back here. Little Asian guy, nervous dude. No way he's one of _them_."

"Asian guy," Alexis repeated dully. She felt fuzzy and confused, and wondered if she was still dreaming.

"Yeah. He's pretty scared, but he won't talk. He just keeps saying they only came for the guns, and the Vatos jumped them."

"So what about Miguel?" Alexis was starting to understand some of it, and suspected that all sides had misinterpreted the situation. Everyone wanted those guns, that was the bottom line. "We have to get him back, what if they hurt him?"

"Asian dude says they won't," Guillermo shrugged. "They were here about an hour ago, wanted to trade our man for theirs. I told them they could trade Miguel and the guns for him, and they left. They'll be back, but I don't know what they'll do when they come. One of them seems okay, but the other guy is just crazy. Told Miguelito he was going to cut off his feet. That's some pretty sick shit." Alexis shook her head and pushed the blanket off to get up, then realized she wasn't wearing any pants and quickly covered up again. Guillermo laughed.

"Abuela's washing your clothes," he said. "And you're not getting any more until she says you can get up."

"Oh, come on," Alexis groaned. "She thinks I have a fever, you know that could take days. I'm okay, I just want to find Miguel."

"I'm glad you're okay," Guillermo said, and she knew that he meant it. "But you're a mess, and you need to rest. We'll handle this."

"Why did you bother telling me all this if you planned to hold my clothes hostage anyway?" Alexis demanded. Guillermo gave her a strange look, one that said she should already know the answer. Alexis sighed and leaned back, unwilling to admit how sore and exhausted her body was, but too tired to fight it anymore. Guillermo left her alone a few moments later, after she'd slid back into a fitful sleep.

Several hours later, she woke again, feeling much more rested and stronger. Somebody had brought food for her, and left it on the table. Tomatoes from the residents' garden, a small pile of uncooked string beans, a sliced red potato and a chunk of cheese that looked reasonably fresh. Abuela's touch, she assumed, and she ate the small feast so fast she barely tasted it. She noticed the chair across the room now held several familiar items, her backpack, shotgun and her own clothes, freshly washed and folded neatly. Her boots sat one the floor under the chair. Only the machete was missing, but Alexis didn't care at that point.

She dressed slowly, allowing the stiffness in her body to dissolve at its own pace. By the time she had the boots on and tied, she heard voices coming from Guillermo's office, and stopped to listen as she recognized Miguel's among them. Hurrying down the hall as quickly as she could, she felt relief flood through her at the sight of young Miguel, looking no worse for wear as he sat on the desk and related his adventures as a hostage to Guillermo and Felip. Guillermo smiled as she entered, and triumphantly held up a large, twelve-gauge shotgun that looked like a police-issued weapon.

"They traded the guns?" She asked in disbelief, but Guillermo shook his head.

"They gave us some of them," he said. "Once we let them inside and they saw what we were doing here. Their leader's a cop, or he was. He's good guy, though. Living with a bunch of survivors outside the city."

"Wow," Alexis said, feeling as if she'd missed something moderately profound. "So it was a misunderstanding, then." Guillermo nodded, but Miguel shook his head.

"Not that one dude," he said. "Crazy fucking hillbilly, man. He cuts off people's hands and feet when he's mad." The others laughed at him, and he looked offended.

"He was just trying to scare you little man," said Guillermo. "Looks like it worked."

"Maybe," said Felipe. "But that _punto_ shot me in the ass. I see him again I'll put one in his." Alexis wandered over to the pile of guns on the table, and saw that they'd provided ammunition to go with them. It was interesting to learn that generosity extended outside of Sunnydale, and she was glad to see there were still some good people alive outside. Then she spotted something else, and as the boys continued to rib Miguel about his feet being cut off, she reached over and picked it up off the table. It was an arrow, short and thick with bright red trim. The kind of arrow hunters used with a crossbow. She stood silently, staring at it, and a slow realization began to build as she started to put together what she'd just heard.

"Dude's crazy," Miguel insisted. "He cut off some dude's hand. He even showed it to me." Alexis turned and looked at them all, then at Felipe.

"The one who shot you," She said, and held up the arrow. "Was it with a bullet, or this?"

"It was that," Felipe said angrily, and this time it was Miguel who laughed.

"He kept asking if we had his brother," he said. "Stupid fucking hick name, I can't even remember it now."

"Merle," Alexis said. "He was looking for Merle." They all stopped laughing and watched as Alexis' face turned pale, and she slowly sat down in the nearest chair, studying the arrow in her hands with a very strange expression on her face.

"You _know_ that dude?" Guillermo asked, and Alexis looked up at him

"Where did they go?" she asked him numbly. "Did they tell you where they were going?"

"Sure," Guillermo frowned. "Told us we could join them, but we can't move the old ones that far. They only left about a half hour ago."

"_Where_?" Alexis asked again, and something hard in her tone made them all look at each other uncertainly.

"The old quarry just outside the city," Guillermo said. "Used to be a reservoir before they built the water treatment plant." Alexis stood up and dropped the arrow on the table, then took her map out of her pocket and unfolded it.

"Show me," she said as she laid it out on the desk in front of him.

* * *

><p>"Face it," said Glenn as he walked next to Rick on the way back to the van. "You came back to Atlanta just for the hat." Rick smiled at him. Glenn had been the one to make the run for the guns, and he'd made sure to pick up Rick's hat along the way.<p>

"Don't tell anyone," Rick laughed. Daryl walked on his other side, And T-Dog brought up the rear. They hadn't found Merle, and after Daryl's initial emotional explosion, he'd calmed down so fast it unnerved them all. But for the most part had been cooperative and part of the team from that point on.

"Can't believe you gave them half our guns," he grumped as they entered the train year and passed under the bridge. "Bunch of old farts who are probably going to die soon anyway. How long do you think they've got?"

"How long do any of us?" Rick returned, but the conversation ceased as they all stopped and stared at the spot where the van had been parked.

"Where the hell's our van?" Daryl said after a moment of shocked silence.

"We parked it right there, who would take it?" Said Glenn, a hint of panic in his voice.

"Merle," Rick said flatly. Daryl turned to look at him as if he was about to argue, then sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

"He'll be takin' some vengeance back to camp," he finally said, his tone suddenly different from any they had all heard before.

* * *

><p>Alexis left the stronghold at a run, still feeling sore and tired from her ordeal but determined to catch up with the group before they got too far. At least she knew where they were going, but the fear that they might leave for greener pastures before she found them brought a sense of urgency to the table and she pushed the physical pain to the side.<p>

Guillermo refused to accept that there was anything but insanity behind her leaving so soon, but once he realized that she could not be talked out of it he showed her where it was on the map and told her exactly how to get there. It was a well-known spot to locals, and he was able to give her details right down to road signs and chain-link fences. She bid a hasty goodbye to them all, including Abuela, who seemed to think she was just going out on one of her usual day trips, and soon she was out of the neighborhood and heading West towards the quarry.

The fact that he had been in the same building, less than100 feet from where she was sleeping and completely unaware was frustrating to say the least. The Vatos didn't even call her by her real name, so if they'd mentioned her it wouldn't have meant a thing to him. She couldn't even blame anyone for not waking her up, nobody could have had any way of knowing that it mattered. And she had to admit she wasn't even sure why it mattered. There was no guarantee that catching up with Daryl would improve anything, and she was leaving behind a group of people who had cared for her like she was family. Was it possible that she was yet again doing something so stupid that it was guaranteed to get her killed? _Being smart doesn't mean you don't fuck up. It only means you've survived your fuckups._

As night began to fall, Alexis felt her legs tiring and slowed from a run to fast walk. She had the quarry in sight now, and she hurried along the road that ran past the lake. The graffiti on the high rock walls was there, just as Guillermo said it would be, and the road sloped sharply upwards at that point. Suddenly, just as she began the steep ascent, she heard a high-pitched female voice screaming, and the sound made her heart jump. Seconds later, she heard more voices shouting, even more blood-curdling screams, and then the sound of gunfire. Heart rising in her throat, she started running again, ignoring the sharp pain in her ribs on her right side and focusing on making her exhausted legs and sore feet move her towards the sound of all hell breaking loose at the top of the road.

She rounded a sharp bend in the road and passed a line of cars, failing to notice that one of them was the bright red Charger she'd seen in the streets a few days ago. A scene of complete chaos lay before her, and she stared for a moment as walkers swarmed in from all sides, sending people scattering desperately in all directions. She heard children screaming and that sound sent her forward with her own shotgun in both hands as more gunfire erupted ahead. She recognized the cowboy cop in the middle of it all, pumping off shots and taking down walkers as they surrounded a group of women and children trying to make their way to the RV parked in the middle of the clearing. Alexis fired her own weapon for the first time as a walker stumbled towards her, drooling black blood and snarling. The gun kicked back and struck her shoulder hard, but the shot hit its target and the walker collapsed. She fired again at another, adjusting her grip so the kick wouldn't hurt, then a third time, and a fourth.

As she moved further into the fray, she spotted an old man in a floppy fishing hat shooting at walkers with a rifle, then a smaller Asian man running up behind him. Back further in the woods walkers huddled around those who had already fallen, ignoring the battle as they fed on the freshly-dead flesh. Suddenly a thin man with a beard was running towards her with a long, heavy stick aimed at her head.

"No! Not dead!" She shouted and stumbled backwards in fear. He stopped just short of bashing her brains in, and looked at her in confusion very briefly before turning to swing ferociously at another walker behind him. Alexis looked around wildly, trying to spot one person in the unbelievably chaotic scene. Finally she saw him, using the butt of his rifle to smash at the head of a walker that had fallen down at his feet. There was another walker right behind him, and she dashed forward, taking aim and pulling the trigger. The empty _click_ was not what she was expecting, and she realized she'd used up all four of her shots. A low, angry growl reached her ears, and she looked up in shock as Daryl Dixon swung viciously at the walker behind him and then turned to charge straight at her, rifle raised and ready to swing at her head. His eyes were wild and fierce, and she realized that there was no recognition in them whatsoever. She dropped the gun and threw both hands out to protect her head.

"Daryl! _NO!_" she heard herself scream, and at the last second she saw his eyes go wide. He stopped short, reversed the weapon in one swift move so it was pointing right between her eyes, and they stood like that for the space of several rapid heartbeats, the barrel of his gun almost touching her forehead.

A sudden silence fell, broken only by the cries of frightened children and their mothers. Cowboy Cop was running forward and scooping up a young boy into his arms, then grabbing hold of a woman and hugging them both tightly. Over at the RV, a blonde woman knelt over the body of another, sobbing heartbrokenly and calling her name over and over again.

"Don't shoot me," Alexis finally managed to say. "Jesus, Daryl... don't shoot." He blinked and lowered the gun, and she could only stand there, trying to breathe as the pain in her ribs made itself known to her again. Then dizziness overwhelmed her and her knees turned to rubber. The last of her strength gave out just as he took one step towards her, then she was pitching forward into darkness. She felt him catch her with both arms before she could hit the ground, but then the sensation of falling stole her consciousness away completely.

* * *

><p><strong>Song lyrics:<strong> Alice Cooper, _Wake the Dead_


	16. Ravaged

**A/N:** Hello, you hungry little monsters. As I'm writing this intro right now, this story has had ******2,721****** hits since the first chapter went up on 4/13/2011. It's only been a month. ONE month... Holy shitballs! I've been here on since 2006, but just started working on this new piece recently in the hopes that it would help me with a bad case of writer's block.

Your comments always make my day. Some of you have been here from the beginning, and some have just now read the entire story in one sitting (slow down, there ShiveringTree). I'm not surprised that the popularity of one of the best TV shows I've ever seen in my life would cause an explosion in fanfiction. Zombie fanatics, I salute you.

It also seems we have a lot of romance lovers following this story as well. I'll tell you all up front that I _suck_ at writing romance (ew, icky!) and that wasn't my initial intent. But it seems like these two crazy kids are hellbent on doing their own thing, so I'm going to just go with the flow and see where the Road to Nowhere takes us. Please note that I do not write smut just for the sake of smut...humans will be humans and they will make whoopie when the spirit moves them, and I'm not opposed or shy about that. If Daryl and Lex decide they want to get it on, I'm not going to stand in their way. But this isn't and never will be a smut/slash/porn story. If that's what you're looking for, you might be disappointed. But I do hope you'll stick around anyway.

Shoutouts and thanks in no particular order to JoanieNobody, Zsra187, blondie911, synethesiac, Lucy Freebird, xXBXx, constantlylost, suziQ22, ChaoticxTheoreticals, dragoness0420, Tenderloin Baby, Beholder, pitbullsrok, luveskane, Fioras, DarknessRunsCold, GingerGidget, murphstheman, Eris, Rickii101, ErisandDysnomia, Websterjude, a reviewer known only as "K" and the anonymous person who keeps calling me "babe."

Special thanks to ChildlikeEmpress, viktorskrupet and Ofelian. Your continued critique, feedback and suggestions have been so helpful along the way, and I hope you stay with me to the end... if there ever is an end. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Ravaged<strong>

_I'm so tired of being here, suppressed by all my childish fears_  
><em>And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave<em>  
><em>Your presence still lingers here and it won't leave me alone<em>

_These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real_  
><em>There's just too much that time cannot erase<em>

_When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears_  
><em>When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears<em>  
><em>And I held your hand through all of these years<em>  
><em>But you still have all of me<em>

_You used to captivate me_  
><em> By your resonating light<em>  
><em> Now I'm bound by the life you left behind<em>  
><em> Your face it haunts<em>  
><em> My once pleasant dreams<em>  
><em> Your voice it chased away<em>  
><em> All the sanity in me<em>

_ I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone_  
><em> But though you're still with me<em>  
><em> I've been alone all along<em>

**Daryl**

"Oh my god," Daryl heard Rick say as they reached the rocky outcropping Daryl used as a vantage point during his hunts. Gunshots shattered the silence of the night, punctuated by screams and shouts of men, women and children.

"Come on, move!" Daryl shouted, even as Rick broke into a full run towards the camp. T-Dog charged ahead right behind Rick, moving amazingly fast for a man of his heavy build. They'd come up on the North side at Daryl's insistence that it was a shorter, if not more difficult climb. They'd reached the outskirts of the camp much more quickly than if they'd run up the road, and as the group surged forward he knew it was only adrenaline that kept the others moving. Glenn stumbled once and fell, but Daryl turned to yank him up by the back of his shirt .

"Shoot straight, little man," he said, and ran on ahead. Shane stood in the clearing with Lori, Carol and their children huddled tight behind him. They were almost surrounded as they fought to make their way to the RV. Daryl took aim and fired at the walker coming up behind Carol, taking it down with one shot to the back of the head. Rick took down another, and then ran forward to back up Shane. Daryl stepped over the bodies of fallen campers without looking at them as another walker came stumbling towards him, also dropping it with one shot, and then another. Somewhere a girl was screaming loudly in terror and pain, and he could hear the Morales kids screaming from somewhere nearby. The sound set his blood boiling, and the familiar red haze began to creep into his vision. He grabbed at the anger as it rose up from his gut and let it take over his body and mind, controlling his muscles and moving by instincts alone. He was only dimly aware of everyone else fighting for their lives as he turned the rifle to use as a club on the still-advancing walkers.

All sense of time was lost as one walker after another fell beneath the crushing blows of the rifle butt, he took an extra second or two with each one to smash each skull to pieces. The sound of crunching bone and splattering brains only added to the blinding bloodlust, and he was almost frightened when he realized he was starting to enjoy that sound. The fear turned quickly into hate, and he poured every bit he had into destroying his enemies. As he pounded more walker brain matter into the ground he sensed movement behind him and spun without looking, rifle raised high to smash another skull into oblivion.

"Daryl! _NO!_" the walker screamed at him, and the sound of actual words coming out of its mouth broke through the sound of blood boiling in his head and he halted his swing, but let the rifle spin around until it was pointing straight at the source of the shout. It was a _she_, and she stood frozen in place with wide eyes fixed on his. The sudden silence around him made him wonder if he'd gone deaf, but then the sound of Glenn somewhere behind him breathing in loud, ragged gasps broke through.

Daryl stared down the length of the barrel at the woman standing before him, and as the red haze began to clear he felt recognition shoot through him like an electric shock. It was _her_. But it couldn't be her... she was _dead_, he'd seen it with his own eyes. Her face wavered in front of him for a moment, and he was looking at Rosie Forrest again. _Rosie, dead but still walking and hell bent on killing_. He felt his finger tighten on the trigger, unable to rationalize how she could have made her way all the way here. _Shoot her. Put a bullet clean through her brain... she'd want you to do it... don't let her walk around like this, rotting and without a soul..._

"Don't shoot me," she said, and he blinked away the irrational thoughts as his vision finally cleared. "Jesus, Daryl... don't shoot."

He lowered the rifle and took his finger off the trigger, his eyes still locked on hers. She was breathing hard and fast as if she'd just sprinted a mile, and there was a dab of fresh blood on her left temple. Walkers didn't breathe, or bleed. She wasn't dead. _Not dead_. Suddenly her expression turned from white-faced shock to a clear wince of pain and she clutched at her side. He ran forward and caught her with both arms just as her eyes rolled up into her head and she pitched forward.

A new sound split through the night air as Daryl knelt down, easing her to the ground and letting her head rest in the crook of one arm. Andrea's cry rose in pitch and volume as she called her sister's name over and over again, and all around him his companions broke into sobs as they reunited with their families or discovered those that were dead. None of it registered for Daryl, he simply pulled Lex's hair away from her face and stared at her, still not believing that it was really her.

"Check the woods!" Shane shouted, suddenly right beside him. "Come on, y'all, make sure there's no more!" A flurry of activity was happening around him, and he tore his eyes away from Lex as he realized they weren't safe yet.

"You all right?" Shane said. "Hey, man.. you hurt?" Daryl looked up with a start and snapped back as Shane gripped his shoulder, his hand reaching for the rifle on the ground next to him. Shane stepped back quickly, startled by the look on Daryl's face. He knew everyone was shell-shocked and frightened, but Daryl's eyes looked... strange. "What the - who is that?"

"Shane, check the road!" Rick called to him. "Daryl, come on! I need you with the others!"

Daryl wavered for a moment, torn by indecision and confused. She was alive, but out cold. He couldn't leave her here out in the open, but there could still be walkers nearby and they had to secure the camp.

"Put her in the RV, man," said Shane, then hurried away towards the road with T-Dog. Daryl lifted Lex in his arms and carried her towards the RV, feeling suddenly numb and uncertain. Her head rolled slightly against his shoulder as he reached the RV, and he gripped her tightly, listening closely to the sound of her breathing against his neck. _She's alive_. She gave the slightest of mumbles as he pulled the door open with his foot, and her right hand moved up to hold onto his shoulder.

He realized his heart was pounding as he took her to the narrow bed formed from the folded-down table, then carefully settled her into place and guided her head down with both hands. He pushed the hair out of her face again, and her eyes fluttered open at the touch. He heard himself give an audible but very small sigh of relief as she looked up at him, and one corner of her mouth moved upward in a smile. Miles of hard road, long nights of solitude and fear of what was to come reflected back at him from her eyes for a moment, but then she closed them again and reached up to grip one of his hands in her own before slipping off again. Daryl touched the bruise on her cheekbone with one finger, well aware that walkers didn't punch. Rick called his name again, but he lingered for another few seconds, again wanting to make sure she was still breathing.

As Daryl left the RV, he felt like his head might spin right off his neck from the confused thoughts tumbling around inside. He retrieved the rifle from where he'd dropped it on the ground. As he joined the others to make a quick search of the surrounding woods to make sure no more walkers were lingering, Daryl couldn't stop thinking about how he'd thought Lex was a walker and almost blown her head off.

* * *

><p><strong>Rick<strong>

Nobody slept that night. The walkers had taken the entire group by surprise, somehow bypassing every trip wire and coming in through the woods as if they knew exactly where to find them. Nobody could determine why they'd come that way, since walkers always took the path of least resistance and only followed sound or smell. If they had come up the road it would have made some sense, and the group who had stayed behind had been enjoying a very large fish fry, something that could be smelled for a long distance. In the end, Rick decided that it must have been the smell of the fish that drew them, but he could not explain why they had come up from behind through the woods instead of straight on from the city.

The hows and whys did not matter immediately anyway. As the last few shots were fired and the final walker was killed, the group struggled to recover, find their lost loved ones and cope with the shock and horror of what had just happened. They spent the night searching the tents and woods for survivors, hoping that at least some had managed to run or stay hidden. But as the search wore on with no results, hope faded away rapidly. The losses were terrible, more than half of their people lay dead or in the final stages of dying. Worst of all, young Amy had been the first victim. She had been savagely attacked by a walker, and bled to death in her older sister's arms. Andrea's cries were nothing short of heart-rending, and everyone had stood frozen for long moments after the chaos had settled. The sound of Andrea's soul ripping itself in half had struck Rick straight through the heart, and he could only stand and stare with the others, holding on to his own wife and son with a grip so tight he thought it might never loosen.

As dawn drew near and all of the living were accounted for, the cleanup began. The children were moved to the least damaged area of the camp, which turned out to be the spot that the Dixon brothers had claimed as their own. Daryl's truck was parked in a manner that created a barrier between the brothers' tents and the rest of the camp, and it worked well to keep them shielded from what the others had to do. Miranda Morales stayed with them. Carol's husband, Ed, had been all but completely devoured by walkers, and she sat by the campfire with a strange, dazed expression on her face. Andrea had not moved from her place next to Amy, and nobody wanted to disturb her.

After a short and very unpleasant discussion, it was decided that the only way to prevent their own people from becoming walkers was to destroy the brain completely. And with bullets being such a valuable commodity, they weren't going to get off easily by just shooting them in the head. The dead walkers would be burned, since nobody knew what kind of threat they might pose even now. Daryl started two large bonfires with Jim's help, using all of the wood they had gathered over the last few days. They fueled it with some of the precious gasoline from the generator on Dale's RV, and soon a heavy, noxious smoke rose into the sky as walker bodies were added to the makeshift pyres.

As the group began to move about, numbly beginning the grim task set before them, Rick realized he hadn't given a single thought to Merle Dixon since they'd arrived at the camp last night. But if Daryl was right about him coming back to settle a grievance... he wouldn't have to do a thing. The walkers had done it for him.

Andrea refused to move or let anyone take her sister's body away. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the mysterious disease woke her up again, but Andrea refused to hear them. She had put a gun to Rick's face when he tried to explain it to her, and he'd seen it in her eyes... the empty depths where her soul used to be, and the cold truth that she would blow his head off if he touched Amy's body. He let her be and resigned himself to the fact that they might have to put Amy down if she got up again.

* * *

><p><strong>Alexis<strong>

She woke abruptly to the sound of a single gunshot, the sound of snarling walkers and screaming people still echoing in her ears. For a moment she lay still, looking up at the ceiling above her with absolutely no idea where she was. She thought she should be hearing the usual noises, people in the halls of the nursing home, dogs barking, music from the rec room. The smell was also wrong. Instead of the hospital-alcohol smell that seemed to permanently reside in the very walls of Sunnydale, something... else was in the air. Alexis sat up slowly and looked around, still confused about her surroundings and feeling as if she should be remembering something. She was in a small kitchen, resting on a narrow bed directly across from a trailer-sized sink and stove. Just outside the door she heard voices, saw people moving around, and smelled something absolutely horrible mingling with wood smoke.

The events of the last few days came pouring back then, and she had to close her eyes against the assault of images and sounds within her head before she could stand up. She thought that she'd been dreaming... the long walk and run to the quarry, the steep, difficult climb up the dirt road and the horrific nightmare waiting at the top. Walkers everywhere, destroying and devouring. Daryl, completely absorbed in the moment and unaware of her identity. She felt cold and realized she was shivering, regardless of the fact that the temperature had already risen well above comfortable. Part of her wanted to stay hunkered down inside this... camper thing... put a pillow over her head and wait for the world to change back to before. But that irrational inner-child voice had been very silent lately, so she got up to head outside and face the new day.

As she stepped down from the RV to the ground, she had to stop to take in everything around her for a moment. Bodies. There were bodies everywhere. Ahead and to the left was a large bonfire, and she watched in silence as a large, heavily built black man dragged the emaciated corpse of a walker to it and tossed it on top. Beyond that was a smaller campfire with several people sitting around it, and far off to the right she spotted Daryl's truck, and Merle's motorcycle next to it. Daryl. Merle. But Merle wasn't here... was he? It hadn't occurred to her that he might have made his way back, but she didn't recall seeing him last night.

"Alexis," the sound of the man's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she squinted up at the tall figure coming towards her and blocking out the sun. "That's your name, right? I'm Rick Grimes."

She nodded to acknowledge her name and his, and shaded her eyes with one hand to get a better look at him. He looked like almost everyone else here. Drawn, tired, covered in dirt and more unpleasant things... and afraid. Everyone was afraid, she could almost feel it.

"Daryl thought you'd come up from the city," he was saying. "But he also thought you were dead, so I'm guessing he knows about as much about it as I do at this point." Alexis gave him a half smile, watching as another group of people came up out of the woods, carrying yet another body between them."You picked a hell of a day for a visit," Rick said lightly, and she could think of nothing to say as she followed him over to the small campfire, which was surrounded by several other people. Rick named them off as she approached... Shane, Lori, Dale, Carol and Andrea, who was sleeping in a lawn chair next to the fire, using a large shoulder bag as a pillow.

"Her sister was killed by a walker last night," Carol explained in a low voice when Andrea didn't stir. "She just sat there with her all night and this morning. Wouldn't let us take her... until she came back again." Alexis looked at Andrea and felt a twinge of sorrow, reminded yet again of Peter leaving her alone... almost a lifetime ago, it seemed.

"You had to kill her again?" she asked quietly.

"No," said Shane. "She did it herself."

Everyone sat in silence, and Alexis knew the gunshot that had awoken her was not part of any dream. Shane got up abruptly and walked past her, heading down into the woods where several more tents could be seen. Lori said something about checking on the kids and left as well. The older man, Dale, was studying Alexis with an odd blankly-curious expression, but she got the distinct feeling that he was looking through her rather than at her.

"Okay," Alexis said to Rick, feeling very much like a fifth wheel. "What can I do to help?"

* * *

><p><strong>Daryl<strong>

Daryl worked with the others in silence, his thoughts preoccupied with the events of the last couple of days, all of them culminating to the fact that Lex had made her way here on her own against all possible odds, but Merle had still not returned. He'd checked in on her once just before sunrise, but she was still sleeping. She'd woken up some time after that, and he'd seen her talking to Grimes for a few minutes before going off with Jacqui to help sort through the tents that had been shredded by hungry walkers as they dragged the occupants outside. he wanted to speak with her, but he was too keyed up from last night and the work ahead of them all was still overwhelming. Anger grew steadily deep in his gut as the day wore on and the cloying, humid heat made everything even worse. Merle, his own tough-as-nails brother who swore he'd always come back for him clearly wasn't coming back. He repeated the words inside his head like a mantra, allowing them to sink in and fuel his own anger with every moment. _He's not coming back._

When he grabbed one of the dead campers and helped Morales drag it towards a bonfire, Glenn blocked their way and tearfully demanded that he be placed with the others and not burned.

"Our people go over there! We don't burn them!" The young man shouted at Daryl defiantly. "We _bury_ them. Understand?"

Daryl glared at him angrily for a moment, but Glenn stood his ground. He had earned some grudging respect from Daryl during the trip to the city, and that was the only reason he relented and helped Morales drag the body over to where the others were being lined up.

"Reap what you sow," Daryl grunted as they reached the line and dropped the body.

"Hey man, shut up!" Morales snapped in disgust.

"Bullshit!" Daryl shouted at him, and turned to include the entire camp in the argument. "You all left my brother for _dead. _You had this comin'!" Nobody had the energy to argue with him as he stormed over to the next body. _He's not coming back. _

At Glenn's insistence, the bodies were separated into two groups, one for walkers and one for everyone else. The walkers were tossed unceremoniously on the bonfires, while the others were lined up so they could be dealt with before burial. While everyone else was standing over the dead, wondering how to go about dealing with them. Daryl's patience came to an end. He grabbed the pickaxe from Dale's collection of tools and walked over to the group with it resting on his shoulder.

"Move," he said simply, and they moved. With one mighty swing, he smashed the sharp end of the axe into the skull of the first one, ignoring the gasps of shock and disgust around him. He yanked the pickaxe free and turned to look defiantly at everyone standing nearby. Nobody returned his challenging stare, and the group filtered away to leave him to the grisly task. "Cowards," he mumbled, and set about dealing with the other bodies laid out in a row. Half an hour later, he needed a break. Each crunch of a skull made his stomach twitch in revulsion, even though he never would have allowed anyone around him to know. He moved away a few feet to the shade of the RV, and leaned back against it for a moment. One of Dale's touristy-looking beach towels hung on the back of a chair, and Daryl used it to wipe sweat and filth he didn't want to even think about from his face. A shadow fell across him as he came out from the towel, and he looked up to see Alexis standing there, holding a bottle of water in her hand.

Neither one of them spoke or moved for several very long moments. Then she held out the bottle of water wordlessly, taking in his customary angry expression and his clothes covered in dirt, blood and sweat. He wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly she was in his arms. As she hugged him fiercely around his shoulders she placed one hand on the back of his neck and he stiffened reflexively, unaccustomed to such contact. But she held on tight and after a few seconds he returned the embrace in full, inhaling the scent of her hair and sweat-covered skin. His thoughts started spinning again as the still-simmering anger collided with a completely conflicting sense of relief.

"I found you," she said in a small voice, and he was suddenly reminded of the games of hide-and-seek he would play with Merle as a child. _She found me, and she didn't even know where to look. Merle knows exactly where I am. He took the van.. all he has to do is drive up here. He's not coming back._ The thoughts set his anger on a low boil again, and he moved his hands to her shoulders, gently pushing her back so he could look at her face closely. The bruise on her left cheekbone had darkened overnight to an ugly, swollen purple. Another smaller one under her left eye was less swollen, but just as noticeable. His gaze shifted lower, and he saw light marks on her neck shaped like fingers, and frowned.

"What the hell happened t'you?" he demanded quietly, the question spanning across the last four months and referring to more than just bruises. She shifted uncomfortably and looked away, then realized she was still holding the water bottle and handed it to him. As he took it he noticed the heavier finger bruises on her wrists, and his expression turned even darker.

"Long story," she said, and stepped away about half a step, hoping he would drop it. But he only scowled at her harder. "I'm all right, Daryl. Really. Just... ask me later. Okay?" He chewed on his lip for a moment, watching her face as she avoided his gaze, then sighed and took a long drink from the bottle. They both stood looking around the camp for a moment, and Alexis couldn't think of a single word to say about what had happened here. She didn't know these people, and felt like she had no place saying anything.

"I almost killed you last night," Daryl said. "Saw you comin' at me and thought you were a walker."

"I know," she sighed. "I was stupid to just run in like that. I should have known you might not have recognized me." She glanced over towards the center of the clearing, and saw Jacqui talking with the tall, thin man who had almost brained her last night. They looked like they were arguing.

"No," Daryl said. "I knew it was you. Just didn' make any sense. I thought you weren't _you_ anymore." Alexis turned to look at him for a moment, then thought of his story about poor Rosie Forrest and began to fully understand his meaning. _He hadn't been able to kill Rosie, and it had almost cost him his life. Daryl Dixon isn't the type to make the same mistake twice._

"A walker bit him!" Jacqui's voice suddenly cut in, carrying across the camp. "A walker bit Jim!"

Daryl's attention was instantly diverted, but he touched Alexis' shoulder briefly as he pushed past her to hurry out into the clearing. Jacqui was backing away from Jim with a frightened look on her face, and the others were gathering from all directions.

"I'm okay!" he shouted, "It's just a scratch!" He looked around for a way out as the others gathered around at a distance.

"Show it to us!" he heard Daryl shout, and saw him coming with a pickaxe in his hands. Jim grabbed a nearby shovel and swung it defensively as Jacqui moved backwards, out of Daryl's way.

"Put it down, Jim," Shane came forward, holding a hand out warningly as Lori and Rick followed close behind.

"Get away from me!" Jim shouted, and swung the shovel at him. Alexis watched the scene anxiously from a distance, reading the fear in the faces of everyone around him.

"Grab him!" Daryl shouted at a large black man who was standing behind Jim. "Come on, man, grab him!" he dropped the pickaxe and ran forward, knocking the shovel out of Jim's hands as T-Dog grabbed hold of him from behind, pinning his arms behind his back.

"I'm okay," Jim kept repeating as Daryl pulled up his shirt to reveal a large human bite on his chest. "I'm okay, I'm okay..." T-Dog let him go abruptly and Daryl backed away, staring wordlessly at Jim as he sat down on the ground and started to cry.

* * *

><p><strong>Song lyrics:<strong> Evanescence, _My Immortal_


	17. God Laughs While We Make Plans

**God Laughs While We Make Plans**

_Life it seems will fade away, drifting further every day_  
><em>Getting lost within myself, nothing matters, no one else<em>  
><em>I have lost the will to live, simply nothing more to give<em>  
><em>There is nothing more for me, need the end to set me free<em>  
><em>Things not what they used to be, missing one inside of me<em>  
><em>Deathly lost, this can't be real, cannot stand this hell I feel<em>  
><em>Emptiness is filling me to the point of agony<em>  
><em>Growing darkness taking dawn<em>  
><em>I was me but now he's gone<em>  
><em>No one but me can save myself<em>  
><em>But it's too late, ow I can't think<em>  
><em>Why I should even try<em>  
><em>Yesterday seems as though<em>  
><em>It never existed<em>  
><em>Death greets me warm<em>  
><em>Now I will just say goodbye...<em>

* * *

><p>"I say we put a bullet in his head and be done with it," said Daryl, his voice low and simmering with something unsettling. Rick, Shane, Dale, Jacqui and Lori all looked at him with a variety of expressions. Disgust, anger, fear... uncertainty. Alexis sat with Carol near the campfire, a short distance from where they were gathered in a tight circle, watching and listening with a sick feeling as they discussed what to do with Jim.<p>

"Is that what you'd want if it were you?" Shane demanded loudly.

"Yeah," Daryl shot back. "And I'd thank you while you did it!"

"We start down that road, there's no telling where to draw the line," said Rick. Alexis looked over at Jim, who was sitting away from them all in the shade of the camper. He looked frightened, of course, but he also seemed strangely calm and resigned to allow others to decide his fate.

"The line's pretty clear," Daryl said. "Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be." Alexis frowned at Daryl's unfamiliar tone. She'd seen him angry. Hell, he was _always_ angry... but this time his words seemed fueled something much more, on a level far deeper than she could fully understand.

"It's not his fault," Carol stood up as she spoke, her words directed at Daryl. "You can't punish Jim for all of them." Alexis stood up with her, still feeling as if she hadn't been here long enough to voice an opinion.

"It ain't punishment," Daryl scowled and looked at both of them. "It's survival. He'll be one of _them_ by tomorrow and we'll all be at risk!"

"I hate to say it," Dale sighed. "But maybe Daryl's right -"

"No," Rick cut him off, his eyes flashing angrily. "He's not a rabid dog or a diseased animal, he's a human being! He's sick and he needs help!"

"Help from who?" Alexis finally spoke up. "And where? I've seen a lot of people over the last few months, coming into the city from everywhere and nobody has heard anything." Rick was already nodding at her point as if he'd expected someone to say it.

"What about the CDC?" he said to them all. "If there's any kind of government left anywhere, wouldn't it be there?"

"That's a long shot," Shane shook his head. "CDC is all the way on the other side of the city... could be even worse there." He looked at Alexis for confirmation, but she shook her head.

"I never made it that way," she said. "Hard enough to get through Central without trouble." She caught Daryl watching her as she spoke, but she couldn't read his expression. He looked away when she met his eyes, and glanced over his shoulder at Jim.

"We could try Fort Benning," Shane suggested. "It's a military base, seems to me that's our best shot."

"That's over a hundred miles away," Lori said. "We don't even know if we have enough gas to get to the CDC..."

"We have to try _something,_" Rick said, tension thick in his voice. None of them noticed Daryl fidgeting as they started to argue, and he looked back at Jim once more before he started to back out of the group, pick axe in hand.

"You go lookin' for aspirin," he said to Rick. "Do what you gotta do, but somebody needs to have the _balls_ to take care of this damn problem!" He turned and sprinted towards Jim with the axe raised high.

"No, Daryl wait!" Alexis shouted, her voice nearly drowned out by Jacqui and Lori's equally loud cries. Jim froze, then started to scramble to his feet with arms raised defensively as Daryl charged forward with a murderous glint in his eye. But Rick had moved so fast it barely registered on anyone around them, and Daryl froze in place as he felt the barrel of a gun against the back of his head. Shane slipped in front of him, placing himself between Jim and Daryl.

"_We don't. Kill. The living." _Rick said ominously, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. Daryl slowly lowered the axe and turned to look him in the eye. Alexis realized she was holding her breath, and felt Carol's hand grasp at hers as a tense silence fell across the camp. T-Dog and Morales came up from the woods at that moment, and Glenn stood at the edge of the clearing near one of the bonfires, watching with fear painted across his face.

"That's funny," Daryl finally replied, although there was no trace of amusement in his voice. "Comin' from a man who just put a gun to my head." The tension could almost be felt rolling out of him as he matched Rick's stare until the gun was lowered, slowly. Then he turned and gave Shane the same even stare, but the man didn't budge from his spot.

_Jesus,_ Alexis thought to herself. _If the walkers don't kill everyone, these guys'll kill each other. _She didn't move as Daryl slammed the pick axe into the ground so it stuck there, and then stormed past her and disappeared towards the tents just past the treeline. She watched him go and wondered if she should follow, but she still wasn't sure who this person was anymore.

"Come on," said Rick, moving towards Jim and hauling him to his feet by one arm.

"Where are you taking me?" Jim asked, a hint of fear beneath the question.

"Somewhere safe."

Alexis stood watching as Rick led Jim away with Shane close behind, and wondered where exactly _safe_ might be.

"Will somebody please tell me what just happened?" T-Dog spoke up, coming forward into the clearing with Morales. Their arms were full of the various supplies that Alexis and Jacqui had recovered from the ruined tents, their owners now dead and no longer needing them. They piled them all up on the ground, and Carol started looking through them listlessly, as if she wasn't even seeing the items she touched. Alexis knelt down to help her, but found herself just watching as the older woman picked up a small first aid kit, a pocketknife, metal canteen, and discarded them all to the side. Glenn left his post by the bonfire and came to join T-Dog and Morales, and they all fished into one of the coolers near the campfire for the last few bottles of water.

"What the hell was that?" T-Dog asked again. "Daryl's finally gone crazy, or did Jim actually do something I should know about?"

"He's been bitten," Alexis said quietly. T-Dog looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, and she saw it on his face as he sorted out what exactly that meant.

"So Daryl's just going to smash his head in, like he's some kind of diseased dog?" Morales asked incredulously.

"Something like that," said Alexis quietly. Carol looked up at her briefly, and gave her a very small, distant smile.

"That's messed up," said T-Dog. "Dude's almost as crazy as his brother. I thought with Merle gone maybe he'd chill out a bit, but..." Alexis very suddenly realized that she'd almost forgotten about Merle. Did Daryl know that he was still alive... or at least he was not long ago? She glanced towards the trees, where he'd disappeared from sight. Merle could very well be dead by now, but she doubted that a man with the strength to cut off his own hand would be easy to kill.

"He's just doing what he thinks is best," Carol said quietly. "Best isn't always right."

"Come on, y'all," Shane suddenly appeared, walking up the path from wherever Rick had taken Jim. "We got to get these bodies wrapped up, we should get them buried before it gets dark."

* * *

><p>Alexis joined the other women in accepting the task of shrouding each of the bodies in bedsheets, tarps, even shredded tents... whatever could be found among what was left of their possessions. Daryl returned from wherever he'd gone to simmer down, and with Glenn's help dragged all of the bodies into a row in the clearing so they could be identified and covered. He could only name a few himself, since he hadn't known most of their names before they were killed, but Glenn proved to have a picture-perfect memory for each one and produced several pens and black markers from his pack for writing on them after each one was covered. Daryl looked at him like he was crazy, clearly thinking it was a pointless gesture, but the names were obviously important to Glenn so he kept silent.<p>

Andrea rose from the chair she'd been sitting in and took charge of her sister's body, refusing to let anyone else touch her. She literally slapped Daryl's hands away when he bent to drag her over with the others, and he withdrew from her as if a snake had tried to bite him. Andrea was completely covered in her sister's blood, and the possibility that she had also been bitten during last night's chaos was on everyone's mind. But even Daryl did not seem willing to voice that concern. Alexis could not look at her as she struggled to lift Amy onto the sheet, shouting angrily at Dale when he tried to help her. Guilt swept through her in a crashing wave as she remembered the brief seconds she'd had with her own brother before leaving him behind in Harmony.

She focused on her work, finding herself drawn to Carol's quiet nature and easy company over the others. They spoke quietly as they worked, and Alexis learned that she had come here all the way from East Texas with her husband Ed and daughter Sophie. Ed had been the first to be killed, as it turned out. He'd been sleeping in his tent, away from the others when the walkers came out of the woods and targeted him first. There was almost nothing left of him when it was all over, the walkers who killed him had all but stripped him clean by the time somebody killed them. Carol pulled the sheet over the ruined mess that was his head, and simply wrote "Ed" on his chest when it was finished. Not "beloved husband," "loving father," or anything else one might determine to be a proper epitaph. Just "Ed."

"I'm so sorry," she said to Carol, but as the older woman met her eyes, Alexis did not see the face of a heartbroken and mourning wife.

Daryl backed his truck into the clearing, and as the preparations for each body were completed T-Dog, Morales, Glenn and Shane loaded them all into the back. Alexis had stopped counting after Ed was wrapped and marked for burial. Rick and Lori appeared with Jim as the last few were covered and marked, and escorted him to the RV. He looked pale, and walked as if his legs were already losing strength. None of them had seen anyone succumbing to the sickness that came from a walker bite, and what would come next was completely unknown. Daryl watched from a distance as Jim disappeared inside, his expression tense and thoughtful, and Alexis finally decided to approach him.

"Guess you think I'm an asshole now, too," he remarked mildly as she approached. She gave a short, un-funny laugh and shook her head.

"There's lots of assholes out there," she replied. "Most of them a lot bigger than you. You're just the camp asshole." Daryl snorted at that, and she couldn't tell if it was a laugh or just a general comment.

"This is a mistake," he said a little louder as T-Dog and Morales lifted Andrea's sister into the back of the truck. She'd been forced to accept their help after struggling to do it herself after a few moments. "They're all infected. Should be burnin' em all, it's the only way to be sure."

"Shut up, Dixon," Morales snapped at him, his expression dark as Andrea turned white and walked away.

"Whatever," Daryl responded, and walked around to the driver's side of the truck. Alexis stood in silence as he started the engine and pulled away, heading towards the narrow dirt road that led to the top of the hill.

"Jim dug a bunch of holes up there," Carol spoke up as she came up alongside Alexis. "We thought he was going crazy, Shane said he had heat stroke... but Jim said he had a dream and it told him to dig the graves." Alexis watched as Jacqui started walking up the same path, joined by Sophie. Behind her, Lori followed with her son and Andrea brought up the rear with Dale as the group headed towards the funeral site. Carol looked at the RV hesitantly, then at the others as they moved away.

"You all go ahead. I'll stay with him," Alexis said to her. The thought of attending a funeral was simply too much at this moment.

* * *

><p><em>It may look like tomorrow, but in dreams it's always yesterday. I've forgotten how to be human... but soon enough, we all do. In the end we're all just bones laying exposed on an unmade bed...sheets soiled with rigor mortis and the cruel mocking promise of death. Except now death has a whole new meaning... nothing but that distant memory of being alive again. Infants learning to walk again, after death has stolen that knowledge from them. But they aren't learning to walk, they're learning to fall.<em> _To the dead, it doesn't matter if you're a corpse...you're still as dead as you ever were, just a little bit colder now. Empty eyes. No soul. No thoughts, no dreams.  
><em>

_We're already dead, every one of us. We just haven't accepted the facts yet.  
><em>

"No," Jim moaned out loud as the faces of the dead flashed before his eyes, and the screams of his children deafened him. "Not this. Not like_ this._" The line between asleep and awake was gone now, and he gave up trying to discern between the two.

_Just one more dream. One last dream of being alive. I don't want to lose my place in line. _

Someone pressed a cup to his lips_, _a distant voice urging him to drink. The cool liquid at first shocked him, the heat of the fever already rising to an almost unbearable level. But he drank the water and breathed deep, grateful for the tiny comfort. then his insides twisted ominously as the cold stuck them hard, and he gagged against the sudden pain for a few moments before drinking more. No food. No more water. Consuming anything would make the ending even more painful. Bright lights flashed behind his eyes, sending shattering pain right through his head. He covered his eyes against the sunlight. It was just too much. A semi-consciousness returned to him as he felt someone reach across him to pull the curtains across the window, and he looked up as she sat back and reached for the sponge, dipped it in the water.

_An angel. It could only be an angel... the light around her is blinding and harsh, but her beauty defeats everything that is wrong. Angels don't smoke. Angels don't hate. But do they dream? "Everyone dreams," she says. "Just rest now. It will all be over soon, I promise." Yes, it will soon be over. She's right. I'll get all the sleep I need when I'm dead.  
><em>

"I know you," he mumbled thickly as she squeezed the sponge and let a thin stream of water trickle across his forehead. "I saw you in a dream, too. I knew you were coming, but I didn't know you when you got here. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you, or the other one. I should have known." Alexis smiled at him gently, as if she understood exactly what he was saying.

"It's all right," she said. "You don't have to have the answers to everything."

"I told them to wait for me," he said, feverish eyes fixed on her face. "I told them to wait by the lake, but they went on ahead without me. I don't know how to get across." Alexis studied him for a moment, her heart aching at the hopelessness in his voice.

"There's a boat," she finally said. "It's there, you just have to look for it."

_Of course it's there. It's always been there. The trees are so tall, but I'm stuck on the ground and I can't climb up for a better look. It's getting dark now, but the angel is still here, waiting with me until I find a way across. __These are not my thoughts. What am I saying? ___ Falling now... slipping though time. Starving. So hungry, thirsty, tired. Did they save a grave for me? _She can't stay for too long... the other one is there too. Waiting for her in the_ dark. _The one with the bow and arrows, so full of hate and love... _

"Keep running. The explosion might hurt you, but he'll be there when you need him." Jim said as he closed his eyes and rested his head back against the pillow. "He just doesn't know it yet."

Alexis watched Jim as he drifted off into a fitful sleep. The others had been gone for over an hour, the funeral at the top of the hill hopefully giving them the time they needed to gather thoughts and prepare for the next step. Whatever that step might be. She settled herself on the narrow bed across from Jim's, sitting with her back against the windows and her knees up close to her chest. Jim mumbled in his sleep, talking about boats, trees dead people and fiery explosions. She wasn't sure how long she sat there watching over him before she drifted off, but it seemed only a few minutes had passed when Carol awoke her to take her place.

She seemed different already, as if she'd left something behind at the top of the hill. Something heavy and cumbersome that she had carried herself for a very long time. Alexis left the RV quietly, Jim's nonsensical words already drifting away into the back rooms of her memory.

* * *

><p>When the funeral was over, as close to a funeral as it could be, Rick, Shane, Daryl and T-Dog filled in the holes while everyone watched silently. Andrea was the last to leave, aside from Dale who lingered at a distance to wait for her. When the last shovel of dirt was placed over her sister's grave, she sighed and finally accepted the help he offered her in the form of a hand to pull her to her feet. It was late afternoon by the time all of the survivors had returned to camp.<p>

The immediate need for food became the next focus, and it presented a problem. Anything fresh had been lost, trampled or spoiled by infected hands, and the nonperishable supplies had long ago begun to run out. Hunting would require time that they did not have, mainly because the arrival of the walkers last night had sent all small game in the area running for the hills and there was simply no way Daryl or anyone else could simply run to the woods and find a quick meal for everyone. Miranda, Jacqui and Glenn pulled together what little they could find and everyone got a little bit of something. Daryl did not bother trying to eat anything, and considering the grisly task he'd had throughout the day nobody questioned it. But only Alexis noticed that he gave his own share to Sophie and shushed her bluntly when she tried to thank him. He didn't sit with the others, but instead paced around behind them, crossbow in hand as he watched the woods around them.

Still hungry but no longer starving, everyone gathered around without being called to do so. Rick, Shane and Dale came out of the woods after doing a sweep of the surrounding area. Not a single walker had been seen since last night, a fact that seemed very odd to Rick. It didn't make sense that only a single group of walkers would attack in what seemed to be an organized fashion. Walkers did not appear to have pack instincts, they only shared the same instinctive drive to devour whatever they could catch.

"Listen everyone," Shane called to the group, taking the only empty seat in the circle around the fire. "I've been thinking about it, and I think Rick is right about going to the CDC." Everyone looked at him, then at each other for a few moments. Rick looked surprised at Shane's announcement, as did everyone else. Shane had argued strongly against the idea, and the sudden change was completely unexpected. Alexis turned and looked up at Daryl, who was standing behind her. He looked down at her with a frown, and she saw her own confusion mirrored in his eyes.

"I've known this man a long time," Shane continued. "And while I may not agree with him on everything I do trust his instincts. I know it's dangerous, and we have no idea if we'll even find anyone there. But it could be our only shot." Lori was looking at him in total amazement, and Alexis thought there was something almost fearful in the way she looked from Shane to Rick, then focused her frown on the ground.

"Anyone who agrees, we leave first thing tomorrow morning." Shane finished, and looked around at the group for reactions. Aside from a nod from Rick, he found none and the matter was abruptly settled. Those with children moved away to figure out where to sleep for the night and begin preparations for leaving in the morning. Jacqui left to check on Jim, and Dale helped Andrea to her feet, even though she seemed content to sleep in her chair. Alexis remained sitting where she was, next to Glenn and T-Dog. Daryl remained standing for a few moments, pacing in his usual way when he was thinking hard. He watched Shane and Rick as they walked over towards the RV to talk more, and wondered for the thousandth time who exactly was in charge here. Finally unable to think anymore, he sighed and walked around the firepit towards Alexis.

"Feel like I been dipped in shit," he commented dryly, allowing himself a moment's rest as he sat down in the chair next to her.

"You look like it, too," she replied.

"So do we all," sighed Glenn. "I miss hot water."

"Don't give a shit if it's hot," said Daryl. "Been dealing with walker brains all day, and I don't wanna smell it anymore."

"I hate to sound like a spoiled city girl," Alexis said tiredly. "But if somebody tells me there's soap around here I'll be very happy." Glenn looked up and grinned at her, the first real smile anyone had seen all day.

"Actually," he said. "Soap is the one thing we seem to have plenty of."

"Shit, man" said T-Dog. "Hand it over already."

The idea caught on quickly, spreading through the camp as if everyone had thought of it first. It was decided that those who smelled the most like walkers would go first, and Daryl didn't seem surprised to learn that he topped the list. The air was beginning to grow cooler as Daryl, T-Dog , Morales and Glenn reached the lake first. Autumn had been upon them for some time, and the nights tended to get cold very fast. Glenn was reminded again of how much he missed hot water as he felt the cold water with one hand and then started to undress with a sigh.

"Okay, guys," he called to the others, keeping his back turned as he pulled at his belt. "Before anyone passes any judgement, keep in mind that this water is _really_ freaking cold." Morales let out a loud, hearty laugh from the spot he'd taken to keep watch while the others took their turns, and T-Dog shook his head with a grin.

"Jesus, Glenn," he heard Daryl say. "Nobody said you had to git _naked_." Glenn looked up in surprise as Daryl kicked off his boots, removed his hunting knife and belt, then walked right past him and dove into the freezing water fully clothed. Glenn looked over at T-Dog, who had also only removed the minimum amount required and was laughing at him from where he stood knee-deep in the water.

"Oh, that's just great," Glenn exclaimed as Daryl swam away under the water and resurfaced several yards away. Morales was laughing so hard he doubted he'd be of much use in alerting them if any walkers felt like washing up tonight.

"Put yer fuckin' clothes back on!" Daryl shouted at him. "I ain't swimming with no naked chinaman." T-Dog and Morales laughed even harder as Glenn's face turned beet red and he crouched down to gather up his clothes. By the time they had all finished, changed into clothes moderately cleaner and returned to camp, the others were on their way down, giving them strange looks as T-Dog and Morales continued to chuckle.

Over the next hour or so the rest of the survivors hiked down to the lake in groups to wash off the filth and lingering shock of the last 48 hours, although not many of them managed to find any humor in the task.

* * *

><p>As the full dark of night arrived, the children finally managed to find sleep along with their parents. Dale had taken first watch up on the roof of the RV after seeing Andrea safely to sleep on the same bed Alexis had slept in after arriving in camp, and Glenn finally gave in to exhaustion and crawled into his own small tent to collapse.<p>

Alexis spread the map of the city she always carried with her on the hood of Glenn's beloved muscle car, and Shane shone a flashlight on it as he and gathered around to listen. Daryl joined them and peered over her shoulder as she pointed out the location of the Center for Disease Control, which was marked "CDC" in black ink.

"I always meant to get over that way," she said. "But on foot that means either going through the old underground tunnel project, or circling all the way around to Piedmont heights and following route 403. Piedmont is jammed with walkers, never really figured out why. 403 is too wide open, there's no shelter. But the tunnels are suicide, so it was never even an option."

"But we'll be driving, not walking," said Rick, tracing a route with his finger. "So we should be able to go up 401 to 85, then cut over to 403."

"Most of the outbound highways were jammed," Shane said. "Hard enough to get one car through, never mind a caravan with a full size RV. We'll have to go around the city instead of through it."

"If we even have enough gas," Daryl reminded them all. "Don't forget that."

"Nobody's forgetting that," Shane said with a slight sneer beneath his tone.

"Yeah?" Daryl shot back. "Then you're not forgettin' that we're gonna be draggin' women and children all the way around to the other side of the city with hardly any ammo, and once we get there we can't go no further. Right?"

"Don't start with me, Dixon," Shane said angrily.

"Knock it off," Rick said loudly. "Both of you. We all know the risks, but staying here is just not an option and you both know it."

"That don't make this the _right_ option," Daryl snapped, and Alexis suddenly felt like she was standing in a crossfire zone.

"Okay, there's way too much testosterone flying around here," she announced, and Daryl moved to let her get out of the huddle around the map. "I think everyone needs a nap. I certainly do." She caught Rick's amused smile before he turned away to study the map himself, and Shane stormed off towards his own tent, fuming wordlessly.

"Whatever," Daryl sighed, but he didn't seem inclined to argue. "I got watch right after Dale. You might as well take Merle's tent, he ain't here to argue about it."

"And when was the last time Merle used soap?" Alexis asked as they headed in the direction of the Dixon's campsite. She was exhausted, but even so had no intention of crawling into any sleeping bag that had been previously occupied by Merle Dixon.

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "Good point. You can sleep in the truck."

Alexis followed him over to where the truck was parked next to two small tents and Merle's motorcycle, suddenly thoroughly drained and not really caring where she slept at this point. Daryl opened the driver's side door and climbed inside to grab something behind the seat, and she stood waiting for him to get whatever it was he wanted so she could get in. But then he exited the truck with a handful of arrows for his crossbow and closed the door behind him.

"I was kidding," he said. "Take my tent, I'm gonna go relieve Dale on watch. Can't sleep now anyway." He pointed out which one was his and waited until she was inside before he walked away.

The tent was of the deep-woods kind that hunters used for extended trips. Well-insulated and sturdy, but small with barely enough room for two, it was dry inside and helped keep the chill out. The tent was sparse, without belongings tossed all over the place as she had expected. A sleeping bag lay in the center, and two backpacks were off to the side. She thought he likely kept everything packed away in order to make it easy if he had to grab and run, which was exactly what she had learned to do over the last few months. As she glanced at the backpacks, she realized one of them looked familiar, and sat down on the sleeping bag to reach for it.

It was Peter's, the one he'd packed for them both on the day they'd escaped from Harmony. She'd been carrying it with her throughout the journey, and had not been able to find it after Daryl and Merle had left her for dead months ago. It hadn't occurred to her that Daryl would have picked it up, and it certainly would never have occurred to her that he might have kept it. Alexis rummaged through it for a few moments despite the desperate need for sleep, having long ago forgotten about what was inside. Expect for one thing, and as she finally located that one thing she felt her heart twist slightly as she drew it out of the pack.

The photo of herself and Peter had been taken the year before, but she'd carried it with her everywhere since. He'd only packed the things he knew they would need the most, but knowing that he'd included something as simple as a photo made it the most valuable thing she owned. It was the only material possession she still missed and thought about from time to time. She drifted off to sleep only moments later, the photo lying on the ground next to her where she could easily see it.

But sleep was a mean-spirited entity these days, and she awoke again just over an hour later, confused as always with no idea where she was. The night outside was silent, and she felt the chill that had crept up with the night. Winter would be here soon, and wherever they went it would have to be somewhere with better walls than tents. She spent the next half hour trying to go back to sleep, but it was a useless attempt and she finally got up and left the tent in defeat. The rest of the camp was asleep, save for Daryl who sat up on top of the RV, watching and listening for any immediate danger.

He heard her footsteps as she approached and climbed the ladder as quietly as she could, trying not to disturb those who slept inside. As she neared the top he reached down one hand without taking his eyes off the woods beyond the camp and she took it, letting him pull her up the rest of the way.

"Can't sleep?" he asked in a hushed tone, and she shook her head with a sigh as she sat down on the roof of the RV next to him. They sat there in silence for awhile as the stars began to appear, twinkling through the layer of thin clouds overhead.

"So... how long is your story?" he finally asked her, and she laughed once.

"Long," she said.

"I've got some time," he said simply.

She shifted around so she was sitting with her back flat against his and she was looking out over the quarry towards the lake below. She leaned back so his weight was supporting her, and he did the same, waiting as she gathered her thoughts for a few moments. The stars were out in full brightness and the clouds just starting to drift away when she started talking, and she didn't stop until she'd told him everything that had happened since they parted ways back at the barn.

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Metallica, _Fade to Black_


	18. Not Safe

We haven't had a disclaimer for awhile, so...

**Disclaimer: **I do not own or hold any rights whatsoever to any of the Walking Dead characters, living, dead or undead. I take no credit for Robert Kirkman's storylines or any other of his creations, as he is a God and must not be disrespected in such a way. I do however take credit for my own OCs and original thought processes, which you will see below. Please respect my ramblings and do not borrow or steal. Thank you!

* * *

><p><strong>Not Safe<strong>

_Shadows are fallin' and I've been here all day_  
><em>It's too hot to sleep and time is runnin' away<em>  
><em>Feel like my soul has turned into steel<em>  
><em>I've still got the scars that the sun didn't heal<em>  
><em>There's not even room enough to be anywhere<em>  
><em>It's not dark yet but it's gettin' there.<em>

_Well, my sense of humanity has gone down the drain_  
><em>Behind every beautiful thing there's been some kind of pain<em>  
><em>She wrote me a letter and she wrote it so kind<em>  
><em>She put down in writin' what was in her mind<em>  
><em>I just don't see why I should even care<em>  
><em>It's not dark yet but it's gettin' there.<em>

_I was born here and I'll die here against my will_  
><em>I know it looks like I'm movin' but I'm standin' still<em>  
><em>Every nerve in my body is so naked and numb<em>  
><em>I can't even remember what it was I came here to get away from<em>  
><em>Don't even hear the murmur of a prayer<em>  
><em>It's not dark yet but it's gettin' there.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Shane<strong>

He awoke just before dawn, jolted out of a strange dream by the sound of somebody sneezing somewhere outside his tent. He counted four, five six sneezes then decided it was time to get up and face the day. The noise reminded him that everyone was subject to illness, which in turn led him to think of Jim, who was suffering from something much worse than a head cold. The backward connection of thoughts reminded him of how Jim had been bitten, the walkers ambushing the camp... Rick leaving to go back to Atlanta for the guns and Merle Dixon... Rick arriving unexpectedly alive and completely unharmed...

Things were permanently awkward with Lori now. Shane wished at times that he'd never allowed himself to get involved with her, but he found himself unable to regret his actions during the weeks following their flight from Cynthiana. Lori had placed full trust in Shane, depending on him to keep her and her son safe. Not only that, she'd turned to him for comfort in her grief over losing Rick, and he'd been been only too happy to oblige. The night she came to his tent looking for more than just comfort was one knew he would never forget, and not once did he feel even an ounce of guilt for pushing her into moving on without Rick.

Her marriage had been balancing precariously for quite some time before the world fell apart, something Shane was well aware of from working so closely with Rick. She'd been completely consumed with guilt, heartsick and angry over not doing more to solve those problems before it was too late. He knew her guilt was eating at her, but every time they'd met secretly in the woods, she was more than willing to lose herself in the moment and let her body take over for awhile. It didn't make sense to him that guilt was something she just put down when Shane's hands were on her, then pick it back up again the moment it was finished. He'd believed she only needed time, he only needed to be patient and supportive, and keep making love to her whenever she wanted it. He worked to form a bond with Carl as well, understanding all too well his own sense of loss. It had been easy to do, since Carl had known Shane as his father's best friend since he was just old enough to walk. Shane genuinely liked the boy and the time they spent together.

But then Rick had returned, and instantly Shane was banished and treated like an outsider by his newly acquired family. Lori had placed a wall between herself and Shane that was so impenetrable he had little hope of getting through. He missed her so terribly, even though he still saw her every day. But not being able to touch her, the feel of her skin, smell of her hair... the look in her eyes when she reached the high point of ecstasy and shouted his name... it was, he thought, cruel and unusual punishment. He'd tried to speak to her, to at least make a peace of some sort, but she'd cut him off abruptly and given him no quarter.

"_You stay away from me, and my son. You don't talk to him, you don't look at him. From now on, my family is off-limits to you," she'd raged at him when Rick had made the trip back to Atlanta._

"_Lori, I don't think that's fair," he'd started, but she cut him off again, even pushed and slapped at him while he blocked her hands from his face._

"_Shut up, Shane... just shut up! My husband is alive.. he is __**alive!**__"_

"_He's my best friend. Do you think I'm not happy about that?"_

"_How dare you! Why would you be? You are the one who told me he was dead!"_

He'd been stunned into silence by the underlying accusation. She believed he had deliberately lied to her about Rick's death... for _what? _To steal her away just to get into her pants? To say he was frustrated and angry was a massive understatement, but he swallowed it all and held it inside, too afraid that he might snap like Daryl Dixon seemed to do on a daily basis. Shane envied him in a strange way... he never seemed to feel like he had to hold back when something irked him, and he didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of him. It had all come to the surface the day he saw Ed Pelletier slap his wife Carol across the face so hard Shane was sure she'd have broken bones and whiplash. Beating Ed's face to a pulp had been more than satisfying, but it had done nothing to solve the bigger problem. In a lot of ways it had made things worse, since those who had witnessed the brutality of the beating now watched him even more warily than the short-fused Dixon.

Worse, he hated himself for the occasional thought that flickered through his mind, that things had been much less complicated when Rick was believed to be dead. He'd had Lori to himself, people looked to him for leadership and depended on him to make the right choice... it wasn't fair to anyone that he should even be thinking so selfishly. Not Shane, Lori, Rick or Carl... it just wasn't _right_. It was the ultimate betrayal... he'd left his best friend to die, fucked his wife, played father to his son and now that Rick was back, things seemed even harder than before.

As Shane rose and gathered his possessions together in preparation to leave for the CDC, he heard the sounds of others doing the same around him. When he exited the tent, T-Dog approached him immediately with Glenn, apparently assigned by Rick to help take down the tents and get everyone packed to leave. Shane said nothing, only nodded thanks and made his way up to the clearing. Rick had everything in hand and under control as always, and the survivors seemed more able to work together as a team under his guidance. Shane once again bit back on the low boil deep down in his gut and worked hard to keep it out of his expression as he joined the rest of the group.

* * *

><p><strong>Daryl<strong>

"Wow," said Daryl as Lex sneezed violently for what must have been the twentieth time since she'd woken up. She made an annoyed sound at him and rubbed her eyes irritably as they worked together to break down the brothers' tents and get everything stowed into Daryl's truck.

"I'm allergic to trees," she said simply, ignoring the blank look Daryl gave her.

"How can anybody be allergic to _trees?_" He asked incredulously. "That's like bein' allergic to air."

"Yeah, well just because you're Mister Outdoors doesn't mean everyone else is," she shot back.

"Don't have trees in Boston?"

"Of course there are trees in Boston. It's just easier to avoid them."

"Whad'ya do, never go out?"

"There's this stuff called allergy medicine," she said, a touch more sarcastic than she intended. "Maybe you've heard of it."

"You always such a bitch in the morning?"

"Yes."

Daryl smirked and rolled the last length of the tent up, deciding it might be best to stop teasing her before she got really pissed. Besides, Dale was approaching them and he didn't like the way the old man studied everyone as if he was trying to figure them out. Lex uttered a loud sigh of relief when he handed her a small white bottle of allergy medicine.

"That's all there is," he said, stepping back slightly as she sneezed violently again. "Should be better for you once we get on the road."

"Thanks, doc," she smiled gratefully. He smiled back at her in that kind, grandfatherly way that also annoyed Daryl for reasons he couldn't quite name, and headed back towards the RV. But even annoyed, he couldn't suppress some amusement at her current state of misery. She'd lived through pure hell over the last few months, getting lost on the road, sleeping in the rain, starving, running from walkers, thieves, rapists and just about any kind of shit imaginable... but right now her biggest problem was that she was allergic to trees.

"Still not sure about this whole CDC thing," Daryl said as he hauled the last of his gear into the truck. "Seems like a long way to go for somethin' we ain't even sure is still there."

"I know," Lex sighed. She had agreed with him on just about all points, but like Rick she thought it was at least a decent shot at finding people who had answers. Daryl didn't place answers high on his list of priorities, though. He'd be fine with _not_ knowing as long as there was a place to go that was moderately safe.

Daryl slammed the gate of the truck closed and stood for a moment, looking thoughtfully across the valley at the Atlanta city skyline. Merle was still in the city somewhere, he was sure of it. Lex had told him last night that she'd seen him alive, and even made an attempt to get to him. Her story had made possibility into fact for him, Merle was still alive out there somewhere. He'd been torn in several directions as he listened to her talk late into the night. One part of him wanted to jump off the roof of the RV and go look for Merle instead of waiting for him to just show up. Another wanted to hunt down that piece of shit who'd put hands on Lex and pound his head into the pavement. And yet another wanted to just shove her in the truck and go, forgetting about the rest of the group and heading into the mountains away from people both living and dead until they reached a place that was truly safe. But as much as he hated to admit it, he knew sticking with the group was the better choice. There was still strength in numbers, even if those numbers had been drastically reduced by the walkers that had ambushed them the night before. Rick had impressed him by sticking to every decision he'd made so far, even when he wasn't sure he was right. Unlike Shane, he didn't expect everybody to just do what he said because he was the law. Instead, he did his best to convince others with the facts, rather than just tell them that's the way it was going to be. Cops and Dixons were never a good mix, but Daryl had always allowed a grudging respect for anyone who properly earned it, even if they wore a badge.

"Daryl," he blinked at the sound of his name and pulled himself back to the moment, and found Lex standing right behind him. "Listen... if you want to go back and look for Merle, nobody would blame you. I know I would do the same if Peter was still alive."

He watched as she took two pills from the small bottle and swallowed them dry. Her eyes looked red and itchy, adding to the bruise across her cheekbone and making her look even more beaten up. It had only been a couple days since five scumbags tried and very nearly succeeded in raping her on the filthy ground of a back alley, and the very thought of it made him want to throw up, go kill something and get drunk, and not necessarily in that order.

"If Merle's alive, he could'a come back on his own," he finally said, reaching out without thinking to take her chin and turn her head so he could look more closely at the marks on her face. She instinctively flinched away from his touch, and he pulled his hand back immediately, turning away so she wouldn't see the anger on his face. He'd seen her do the same thing yesterday when Carol had made her sit still and let her put a cold pack on it. She shied away from anything but casual or accidental physical contact, but hands near her face seemed to be what she hated the most. _Don't touch the face, not ever. _She was a different person in so many ways from the uptight, clueless city girl he'd met months ago, but the experiences that had brought her to this new strength had also brought with them new fears. She'd slept in the small tent with him after his watch shift was over last night, but kept herself securely zipped up inside the sleeping bag while he slept in Merle's. The message was clear. _Don't touch, but don't leave me alone._

It was fine with him in a way... aside from drunken groping and rolling in the hay with various females who were even more drunk than he was over the years, human contact was not something he generally sought out himself, especially while sober. With the exception of Rosie Forrest, most of the women he'd encountered weren't looking for much more than to get drunk and fuck, and he very rarely passed up those opportunities. But once the second part was done they didn't bother to hang around to chat. Lex was literally the first member of the opposite sex he'd had a sober conversation with that lasted more than five minutes.

"We should stick with the group," he said. "Even if Grimes is wrong about the CDC, he's right about one thing. It's not safe here, or in Atlanta."

* * *

><p><strong>Rick<strong>

"We're heading out," Rick spoke into the walkie-talkie as he had done at dawn and dusk since he'd retrieved them from the bag of guns in Atlanta. "Last night walkers came out of the woods. We lost a lot of people... it's not safe here anymore, Morgan."

He paused for a moment, thinking of the man back in Cynthiana who had rescued and befriended him when he'd awoken from his coma and found himself wandering the streets in confusion. Morgan Jones and his son Duane had arrived just after the town had emptied of all living survivors. Duane had knocked Rick unconscious with a shovel, assuming he was just another walker, but Morgan had seen otherwise and they'd taken Rick back to the house they'd been living in. As Rick recovered slowly, Morgan had brought him up to speed on current events and the two had formed a solid friendship.

They had stayed behind when Rick left, not ready to move on and leave their own painful experiences behind just yet. Morgan had agreed to meet him in Atlanta, and they had set a plan to stay in touch by walkies when the time came. But as Jim had said to him yesterday, God was indeed laughing as the little people down here on Earth made their plans, something Rick discovered immediately upon arriving in Atlanta alone that first day. Even as plans fell apart and hope dwindled, Rick spoke to his friend every morning and evening on the radio, away from the camp and facing the rising or setting sun. He knew it was more than likely the conversations were one-sided, but right now he needed them more for himself than anything else.

"We're heading for the CDC in Atlanta," he continued. "If you've been hearing me, you know we're at the quarry just outside of the city. I'm leaving a note with a map for you taped to a red car, so you can follow us. There has to be someone at the CDC, don't you think? There _has_ to be. I don't know what we'll find when we get there... if we get there. Remember... _do not go into the city_. It belongs to the dead now. Take care of your boy, Morgan. And take care of yourself. I hope we see you soon."

When Rick returned to the camp, everyone was packed and ready to go. He looked around at them all in turn, trying to read their faces for some idea of what they might be thinking. Carol and Sophie were on their own without Ed, something that must have been both frightening and a great relief for them both. Men like Ed Pelletier abused women as a means of control, and Rick could see the uncertainty on both their faces as they began to cope with the fact that nobody was making decisions for them anymore. Jacqui, T-Dog, Dale and Glenn didn't even have to be questioned, they were on board with the decision from the start. Andrea had been silent and almost one of the dead herself since Amy had died, but Dale's RV was her home, and she would follow without complaint. Daryl Dixon was the only real wild card, he'd argued against both sides of the issue without ever seeming to take a clear stand either way. Rick couldn't be sure if he was still raw about Merle being left behind or not, but he was here, packed and ready to go just like the rest. Lex, Daryl's friend who'd arrived out of the blue in the middle of the walker attack had knowledge of the area that both supported his stance and pointed out the flaws in his plan. Rick wasn't sure if that meant she agreed with him or not, but from what little he'd gathered she'd befriended the Dixon brothers months before and would not be parting ways any time soon.

"We're not going," Morales spoke up just as Rick's gaze reached him, standing with his wife Miranda and their children, Louis and Eliza. Everyone in the group looked at them in surprise, and Sophie promptly started to cry as she realized her friendship with Eliza was about to end.

"We have family in Birmingham," Miranda added, looking around at the group with her heart in her eyes as she spoke.

"You're sure?" Shane asked gravely. "You'll be on your own, with nobody to back you up."

"We're sure," Morales said resolutely. "We talked about it last night. We want to be with our people."

"Well," said Rick. "All right then."

Morales was given a gun and small supply of bullets as the group bid them tearful goodbyes, all except for Daryl, who seemed completely annoyed with the fact that the small group's numbers were reduced even more now. Either that or he was pissed that they'd given away the precious ammunition. Rick shot him a warning look, but Daryl simply rolled his eyes and walked away, heading for his truck.

A few moments later, they were on the road. Several cars had been left behind, their owners dead and buried up on the hill. Dale, Glenn and Shane had stripped them of all useful parts and drained the gas from each to keep the small caravan running as long as it could. Glenn's red Charger was parked in the middle of the clearing, with Rick's note to Morgan with Lex's map of the city, wrapped in a plastic bag and taped to the side with the last pieces of duct tape from Dale's toolbox.

_Morgan - Heading to the CDC. THIS AREA NOT SAFE._

Less than an hour later, Rick heard the sound of God laughing again when the RV's nearly-antique radiator core finally broke and the vehicle promptly overheated. The caravan reluctantly came to a halt, and the group gathered around as Dale opened the hood, releasing a billowing cloud of steam.

"Can you jury-rig it?" Rick asked anxiously. Dale peered inside and reached in, pulling a length of ruined hose out with his fingers, then shook his head.

"We needed the hose and coil from that cube van," he said. "Most of the engine is held together with duct tape and glue at this point. And I'm out of duct tape."

"There's something up ahead," Shane called, looking through a pair of binoculars. "A gas station, maybe. Might be able to go find what we need."

"I'll go with you," said T-Dog, and Rick nodded at them both. The others had all gathered at the side of the road in the shade, and Daryl had taken up his usual watchful pacing around them all, watching the woods with crossbow in hand. Jacqui suddenly came out of the RV, her face contorted with fear.

"It's Jim," she said to Rick. "It's bad... I don't think he's going to make it." She turned and walked away, clearly upset by whatever she had seen inside the RV. Rick watched her go, pushing past Daryl as he came over to see what was going on.

"I'll check on him," Rick said firmly with a hand raised warningly towards Daryl. They'd both seen the look on Jacqui's face, and both knew that the worst was soon to come. Daryl didn't argue, just gave him a nod and stood by with the crossbow raised. Rick caught his meaning clearly and sighed. Daryl would be the one to make sure Jim didn't get up after he died.

* * *

><p><strong>Alexis<strong>

Shane and T-Dog were gone for the better part of an hour, and the survivors spent the time waiting anxiously in the shade of the trees by the side of the road. Rick was inside with Jim for quite some time, and Daryl lingered along the side of the RV, waiting for Rick to report. Jacqui was beyond upset. Jim's fever was unbelievably high, and his delirious rantings had finally frightened her enough to make her leave the RV in haste. He'd started vomiting blood just before the RV broke down, in quantities so horrible Jacqui couldn't stand to stay with him any longer.

Just after Shane and T-Dog returned and started working on the RV with Dale, Rick emerged from inside, his face pale and serious. Everyone gathered around anxiously.

"How bad?" Daryl asked him immediately, and Rick shook his head at him grimly.

"He's alive," he said. "But he won't last long."

"We should take care of it now," said Daryl, moving closer to stand on Rick's right hand side. "Before it gets worse. It'll be better for him, and everyone else."

"We already talked about that," Shane said, and came around from the front of the RV to stand on Rick's left. Rick looked back and forth between them for a moment, and Lex realized she was holding her breath as Rick appeared to be torn between the advice of both.

"He wants us to leave him here," Rick finally said. "It's what he wants. The trip is too hard on him, and he's in terrible pain. He's not afraid." Daryl glanced up at the window towards the rear, where Jim lay just beyond.

"He's lucid?" Carol asked, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. Sophie turned and buried her face in her mother's chest, and Carol held her protectively.

"He seems to be," Rick nodded.

"Back at the camp," Dale spoke up. "When I said Daryl might be right and you shut me down... you misunderstood me. I would never go along with callously killing a man. What I meant was maybe we should ask him what _he_ wants." He paused as everyone looked at the ground thoughtfully, and Rick let out a heavy sigh.

"I think we have our answer," Dale finished.

"So we just leave him here?" Shane echoed. "Man, I don't know if I can live with that."

"It's not your call," said Lori. "Either one of you." Shane shot her a look, but she returned it steadily, almost defiantly.

"Help me," Rick said to Shane, and after a moment of indecision, Shane followed him inside the RV.

Alexis walked away from the group as Rick and Shane very carefully helped Jim outside. Since she'd arrived at the camp she'd seen more people die than during all of the last several months combined. She barely knew any of these people, but she wasn't sure she could bear leaving Jim die by the side of the road like a sick dog that had become a danger to its owners.

Rick and Shane carefully walked him up a small hill to a large tree, where he could sit in relative comfort in the shade. Alexis drew a little closer as the group gathered around him, and watched with a sort of detached amazement as each one of them stepped up and spoke to Jim briefly. Saying goodbye. It was the one thing none of them had been able to do for the loved ones they had already lost. They'd had no opportunity to say goodbye, and they weren't going to make that mistake again.

_I didn't say goodbye_, she realized, thinking back once again to that moment when she'd knelt over Peter's dying body. _I had the chance... a quick, short second but still a chance. I never said goodbye. _She felt her feet moving on their own as she approached Jim. The others were drifting away, back towards the caravan, and only Daryl remained standing, holding his crossbow in both hands. For one quick and irrational moment Alexis feared that he was going to put an arrow between his eyes after all. It would be nothing short of mercy, she knew that, but it wasn't what Jim wanted. But Daryl never raised the crossbow, just stood still for a long moment looking at him. Jim looked right back at him, then smiled as Daryl gave him a short nod and then walked away.

"There she is," Jim said weakly as she hesitantly approached him, and knelt down on the grass in front of him. "I knew you'd still be here."

Alexis couldn't think of a single thing to say, and even if she could she doubted the words would make it past the lump in her throat.

"It's all right," Jim smiled. "Everything will be all right. I know where the boat is."

She nodded at him and reached to grip the had he held out to her. She heard the sound of the engines starting behind her, and gave Jim's hand one quick squeeze before saying goodbye. When she walked away and hurried over to where Daryl's truck was idling, Jim turned his face up to the sky and closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun wash over him.

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Bob Dylan, _Not Dark Yet  
><em>


	19. Sidetracked

**Minor Disclaimer:** The places named in this story are real, but I have never been to any of them in my life... except for Boston. If you've been to Georgia and know I don't have my facts and/or locations straight, please remember this is fiction and many liberties will be taken.

* * *

><p><strong>Sidetracked<strong>

_Lord, I was born a ramblin' man_  
><em>Trying to make a living and doing the best I can<em>  
><em>When it's time for leaving, I hope you'll understand<em>  
><em>That I was born a rambling man<em>  
><em>My father was a gambler down in Georgia<em>  
><em>He wound up on the wrong end of a gun<em>  
><em>And I was born in the back seat of a Greyhound bus<em>  
><em>Rolling down highway forty-one...<em>

"Do you mind if we don't listen to that redneck noise?" Glenn asked Dale with a hint of irritation in his voice. They'd been driving for three hours straight, and already the trip to the CDC had taken much more time than it should have. The delay caused by the RV's breakdown had wasted enough precious time, but the fact that they had left Jim behind had sobered everyone enough to not complain about the entire event.

To further complicate things, they'd discovered that route 401 was indeed so completely clogged with abandoned vehicles, trucks and wandering walkers that it was impossible to get through. They'd had to turn around and go back to the last exit, and interesting trick since they were driving on the wrong side of the highway... or at least it would have been wrong if there were any other cars driving on it. The entire group had again left their vehicles as Glenn pored over the maps with Dale, Rick and Shane looking for an alternate route that would not take them through the city.

There were plenty of roads, most of them going through more suburban areas, but the smaller ones were not clearly marked. After one brief but nightmarish trip through a residential neighborhood that was absolutely swarming with walkers of all ages and sizes, neither Rick nor Shane was willing to risk wandering through any more suburban Atlanta neighborhoods until they saw signs telling them exactly where they were. Alexis only knew the inner city areas, and while Glenn's familiarity was much more extensive he certainly could not manage to identify every unmarked area on the map.

They stuck to the larger routes that were easily identified, but each time encountered similar problems and had to sidetrack or completely turn around. After three stops the group was tired, frustrated and over-stressed, and Rick loudly declared that the next place they found was where they would spend the night. His frustration at not reaching the CDC by nightfall was evident, and even Daryl bit back whatever angry comment was waiting on his tongue.

Dale reached over, popped the cassette out of the stereo and replaced it with another. Glenn closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head as a new set of lyrics filled the RV.

_How many roads most a man walk down_  
><em>Before you call him a man ?<em>  
><em>How many seas must a white dove sail<em>  
><em>Before she sleeps in the sand ?<em>  
><em>Yes, how many times must the cannon balls fly<em>  
><em>Before they're forever banned ?<em>  
><em>The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind<em>  
><em>The answer is blowin' in the wind...<em>

"Great. Hippie music. Well, he's got one part right... how many roads indeed. I think we're lost."

"What makes you say that?" Dale asked with a worried frown.

"That," Glenn pointed at a sign, and Dale leaned forward, slowing down to peer at it. _Chattahoochee National Forest_, it read. Dale sighed and sat back, then glanced at Glenn.

"I wouldn't say we're lost," he said. "That sign tells us exactly where we are."

"Yeah, sure." said Glenn. "We can be in Tennessee by nightfall."

* * *

><p>"This is fuckin' ridiculous," Daryl finally exploded as the caravan stopped yet again. Alexis sighed and didn't bother saying anything along the lines of calm down. He'd been amazingly calm through the entire trip, all things considered, and if she wasn't so exhausted and foggy from the allergy medicine she'd probably be exploding, too. Instead she flinched as Daryl yanked at the door handle and got out of the truck, slamming the door so hard she felt the air pop in her ears. She could hear him shouting, and let herself out of the truck with a heavy sigh.<p>

Shane and Rick were standing on the side of the road next to the RV, and Glenn was hanging out the window. Rick and Shane were arguing about Fort Benning again, their voices starting to rise. As Daryl stormed up to them the noise only intensified.

"What th'hell is that?" Daryl was yelling and gesturing at a sign just ahead of the RV. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? We're almost up into the goddamned mountains!"

"Shut up, Dixon," Shane said loudly. "You can just keep your mouth shut, unless you got a solution!"

"A solution?" Daryl mocked him. "A solution? Yeah I got a solution you tin-badge pig sumbitch!"

"Don't you square off with me, Dixon," Shane growled. "Your douchebag brother isn't here to scrape you off the pavement."

"Heeeey!" T-Dog was suddenly between them just as Daryl launched himself forward, fully prepared to beat Shane into a pulp. Both he and Rick wrestled him back, and Alexis froze in place at the spectacle. Daryl was practically foaming at the mouth, and literally growling like an angry dog. Glenn jumped out of the RV and stood nervously as Shane glared at Daryl with nothing short of hate on his face, and Alexis hurried forward with Lori following close behind her.

"Will you guys just knock it off!" T-Dog shouted. "Everybody's armed, for chrissake!"

"Let him go," said Shane, moving forward until he was almost with reach of Daryl's clenched fists. "Let him take a swing at me, if he thinks he can take me."

"Git your hands off me!" Daryl shouted, but Rick got a firmer grip on him and pushed him back hard.

"That's enough," he said in his sternest _don't-mess-with-me-I'm-a-cop_ voice. "You just calm down _right now_." Daryl glared at him so hard he looked like he might burst a blood vessel, but he backed off a couple steps and started pacing at the side of the road. Carol was standing nearby with Sophie, and she drew back away from him, pulling her daughter with her.

"Shane," Rick turned to point at his friend, the other hand still raised as if to ward off Daryl's fury. "I need your help on this, and _that's not helping_." Shane looked infuriated at being chastised in front of the group by Rick, but his eyes darted to Lori as she came into view, and he took a deep breath to get control of himself.

"Sorry, man," he said to Daryl, although he sounded like he would rather be chewing glass than apologizing to a foul-mouthed redneck. "Rick's right. We're in a shitty situation and I know it's not your fault." Daryl just looked at him sideways as he paced, clearly having no intent of accepting any offer of truce from Shane.

"It's my fault, if you need to blame somebody," Rick added.

"Nobody's blaming anyone," Lori spoke up. "We all agreed to leave, and we all knew the risks. We just need to figure out what to do _now_."

"Well," said Dale. "People come here to camp... or they used to. So we might as well camp. We still have a few hours before sundown, should be plenty of time to find a safe spot."

Rick looked around at everyone, saw how much exhaustion and stress had taken its toll on the group in only one day. Andrea sat down on a nearby rock, watching the group without comment.

"Okay," he said, "I don't suppose anyone has been here before and knows the area?" He looked at Daryl hopefully, but he only shook his head, focusing his gaze on anything but the faces around him.

"Nope," he said. "Can't hunt here. All protected wildlife."

"Not anymore," said Glenn.

* * *

><p>After one quick stop at a small gift shop so Glenn could find a more detailed map of the area, they decided to seek out the smaller roads hoping that one would still be wide enough for the RV to maneuver. The forest was only a forest in the sense that it had trees. Glenn scanned through the brochures he'd grabbed with the map and announced that it covered nearly 750,000 acres. Lakes, rivers, waterfalls, mountains... the area was far too large and the danger of becoming hopelessly lost in the wilderness was real. They avoided the main campsites and more touristy attractions out of fear that there may still be visitors in the form of walkers that had not found their way out of the area yet.<p>

About ten miles into the forest grounds, they came across a sign that read _Chattahoochee River_, and Glenn blinked at it, finally recognizing the name of a place he'd seen on the road map earlier that day. As Dale turned the RV right and followed the road out of the heavy trees, Glenn pulled out the other map and studied it until he found the river. It ran all the way to Fort Benning, and very likely could clearly be seen from the highway all the way. And Fort Benning was now almost an equal distance from the CDC.

Dale brought the RV to a stop along the side of a clearing just wide enough for all of the cars to park alongside, and leaned forward to study the area outside. The sun was hanging low in the sky, and he guessed they had a couple hours until it set. They'd passed many large and scenic areas along the way, complete with cabins and a variety of outbuildings, but opted to find one more secluded and with less places that might have attracted walkers. They hadn't seen a single one since the last u-turn on the highway, and the drive through the beautiful area had calmed everyone's nerves. At least Dale hoped it had.

"I guess we're here," Dale said as the others started getting out of their cars.

At Shane's suggestion, they parked all of the vehicles in a wide semi-circle around the area that was chosen as a campsite. In the interest of being able to leave quickly in the morning, or sooner if necessary, only two tents were pitched closer to the edge of the river. The children and their mothers would share the RV with Andrea, while Jacqui and Alexis slept in the larger Explorer and the rest took turns on watch. Daryl and Rick left Shane to organize the camp and made a quick sweep of the immediate area. A low rocky ridge jutted up against one side and thick woods covered the other. A more narrow stretch of the river lay in front of the half-circle, but opened up into a wider expanse just a short walk downstream.

"What do you think?" Rick asked him in a low voice as they stood looking downstream at the river that flowed into a lake beyond the horizon. Daryl frowned slightly, not sure if Rick was actually asking his opinion.

"I think you should'a let me thump 'im," he finally said. "He's been askin' for an ass-kickin' since day one."

"I _meant_," Rick shot him a look. "What do you think about where we are? Safe?" Daryl shrugged.

"Maybe," he said. "Don't seem to recall anyone givin' a shit what I think, though."

"Well, I give a shit," Rick said in exasperation. "Look, Daryl... we're hanging on by the skin of our teeth here. Everyone's opinion counts, especially the only person here who knows more about the outdoors than all of the forest rangers who used to work in this place combined. If we were in the city, I'd ask Glenn, or your friend Lex. But out here, right now, it's your opinion that counts. So I'm asking _you_." Daryl studied the water silently for a moment, as if weighing and calculating the value of Rick's words.

"Terrain's pretty rough," he finally said. "Woods are thick, and that rock wall is a barrier. We're covered, but can get out easy enough. Should be a'right for one night. Gonna get cold, though. Really cold."

"Maybe we can make a fire," Rick said hopefully. "We're far enough off the road that walkers shouldn't see it. And if they do - "

"They can only come through the woods, or get past the cars. We'll hear 'em comin' before they get too close," Daryl finished, and Rick nodded.

"I can live with that," Rick sighed.

"This is bear country," Daryl added. "Fish for dinner ain't an option. They'll smell that for miles, and a hungry bear is a lot more dangerous than a hungry walker. Harder to kill, too."

"Okay," Rick said uncertainly. "So we don't cook. Anything else?"

"Piss on the trees."

"Excuse me?" Rick blinked at him, wondering if Daryl Dixon was even capable of making a joke.

"Piss on the trees," he repeated. "Bears don't like people, so if it smells like people they go the other way."

"You want us to mark our territory?" Rick found himself feeling like he might laugh, but Daryl was dead serious.

"Why not?" he shrugged. "Your buddy Officer Walsh been doin' it all along." Daryl's meaning sailed straight over Rick's head, although Rick was pretty sure that Shane hadn't been pissing on trees on a regular basis.

"Okay," Rick shook his head. "Let's get the guys together and go piss on some trees."

As they approached the camp again, Shane looked up from where he was helping T-Dog pitch one of the two tents. Rick laughed at something Daryl said just before they came into his range of hearing, and Shane could have sworn he saw something close to amusement on Daryl's face. Lori and Carl were down by the river, and Carl was trying to show her how to skip stones, and failing miserably. Rick headed towards them to take over the lesson as Daryl walked over to speak to Alexis. Shane stood up and watched Rick shake his head in exaggerated disgust as Lori's first stone sank with a loud splash, and somewhere behind him he heard Alexis' exclamation as Daryl announced loudly that he had to take a piss.

"Hey, man," T-Dog said, suddenly finding himself alone with hands full of a half-pitched tent that was refusing to cooperate. "Don't leave me hangin' here."

As he bent down to help T-Dog untangle the tent, he could hear Lori and Carl laughing as Rick picked up a few more stones and showed them how it was done. It was ridiculous. Everyone was treating this unscheduled stop like it was a vacation instead of a delay, and Rick was putting far too much trust in Dixon. Shane had lived with him and his despicable brother for months, and Rick had just met him less than a week ago. Shane gritted his teeth as Lori made a protest to Rick's suggestion that she threw rocks like a girl. He left them by the river and headed over towards the RV, giving Shane an Officer-Friendly nod and smile.

Shane nodded back and gave him half a smile, then helped T-Dog finish with the tent.

* * *

><p>As the sun began to set lower in the sky, the group gathered around the small fire. It was certainly starting getting cold as Daryl said it would. Shane and Rick dragged several large fallen logs close to the fire to serve as seats for everyone. Cold weather gear was in short supply, but they'd brought along every sleeping bag and blanket they could fit into the caravan. Glenn's quick looting of the park store had yielded a small fortune. Four short-range walkie-talkies, batteries, a large first aid kit, and food. Dinner consisted of a big jar of peanut butter, several loaves of not quite-stale bread and a bag of pork rinds, which only Daryl seemed to not find disgusting. Shane watched him dig into the bag and thought that he'd probably eat dog food if it was all Glenn could find. Dale and T-Dog took the first watch, positioning themselves on opposite sides of the camp, and as everyone ate Glenn went over the map with Rick, attempting to plot a more direct route to the CDC.<p>

"So we're here," Glenn pointed out their location on the park map. "And there's an exit to a main highway here. If we go out that way in the morning it's almost a straight shot South back to the city. The drive through the park is the longest."

"Gas is gettin' low," Shane pointed out. "If anyone runs out inside the park, we lose the vehicle."

"The station wagon has the smallest tank," Rick said thoughtfully. "And the radiator's leaking. If we leave it behind, we might be able to use the gas to keep the others moving."

"Then we lose some of our gear," Shane said. "We can stuff the RV full, I guess. But that boat is the best defense we have if we get swarmed in the city. We need the space."

Daryl turned and looked back at his truck, parked so it was blocking the small road leading into their camp. Merle's motorcycle was still strapped down in the back, and he'd been thinking for some time that it was weighing down the truck and making him burn more gas. He'd considered leaving it behind at he quarry, partly because he thought Merle might make his way back and need a ride. _But you can't drive a motorcycle with only one hand._

"I got one backup can almost full of gas," he said to nobody in particular. "Leavin' the wagon behind will make it last longer." Rick nodded in agreement, and Shane shrugged as if he didn't care. Glenn announced that the RV had a full tank with no backup, and Rick got up to check the gauge on the Explorer T-Dog drove, Shane following him. Alexis sighed and stood up, having reached the point of not being able to ignore the call of nature anymore.

"Where you goin'?" Daryl asked, shaking his bag of pork rinds to get to the last few small pieces.

"I have to pee," she said. "If you don't mind."

Carl and Sophie giggled as kids do when bathroom humor is involved, but Andrea was looking at Alexis with her haunted eyes as if she'd just remembered something.

"Be careful," said Lori. "Don't go too far."

She didn't go far, but spent some time trying to remember where Daryl and the other men had gone during their mission to safeguard the camp against marauding bears by setting up a pee barrier. The words struck her as funny, _pee barrier,_ and she realized she was giggling to herself as she thought them. _Great, I'm giddy from allergy meds._By the time she returned to the camp, Lori and Carol had the kids sitting together with a book open between them. They'd continued with some schooling even in the midst of the end of the world, and the fact that Carol had home-schooled Sophie since she was three was a huge help in that area. Andrea and Jacqui remained by the fire, staring thoughtfully into the embers and listening to Carol work with the children. Glenn, Rick and Shane were standing near the RV, talking in low tones. Alexis looked around for a moment, then spotted Daryl down the riverbank a bit, cleaning his arrows with a stained cloth one at a time.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she approached him from behind, and he glanced over his shoulder at her briefly.

"Nothin," he said simply, and moved over a bit as she came around to perch on the rock next to him. "Just listenin'."

"To what?" she frowned, not able to hear the others over the sound of the river.

"To that," he said simply, nodding up at the sky as if it was making a noise all its own. Alexis listened more closely for a few moments, and soon heard the almost organized sounds of the river slowing past, splashing lightly against small rocks. Crickets chirped all around them, and as she sat still more joined in. The sun continued to make its way towards the horizon across the river, sending small reflections of light bouncing off the water. She imagined that each one made its own sound, like the tinkling chime of a small silver bell.

"It's so beautiful here," she said finally. "I almost wish we could stay." She felt rather than saw Daryl turn his head to look at the side of her face as he picked bits of walker brains off the arrows with the cloth.

"We could," he said. "If you really wanted to." He looked away from her as she turned her face towards him.

"Huntin's good, lots of deer and rabbits. More fish here than anyone could ever eat. No walkers for miles. Seems crazy to go back to the city right away."

"You're serious," she said, surprised. He shrugged and blew hard on the arrow, then set it down and reached for another.

"Just sayin'," he said simply. "Haven't even heard you sneeze since we got here."

"Thanks to Dale and the rolling drugstore," she reminded him, and he almost smiled.

The sound of a twig breaking loudly nearby made her heart leap, and Daryl was up and spinning towards the sound with his crossbow raised before she even registered the noise. She jumped to her feet and turned, but Daryl elbowed her back so she stood behind him.

"Easy!" a voice shouted, and Daryl frowned as a man stepped forward out of the trees with a hunting rifle pointed straight at him. He aimed the crossbow at the spot between his eyes, and the man stopped short, recognizing that he clearly knew how to use it.

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl said loudly, and Alexis heard more shouts as T-Dog came into view with his own rifle pointing at the stranger's back, followed closely by Rick and Shane with guns in hand. The new arrival turned slowly to look at the three of them, then back at Daryl.

"Well," he said, lowering the rifle slowly. "Guess y'all got me outnumbered, dont'cha?"

* * *

><p>After a short but tense standoff, everyone but Daryl lowered their weapons, and the stranger introduced himself as Caleb Wallace. Rick required him to do some talking before letting him move from where he stood, but he didn't seem to mind or take offense. He told Rick he'd come from Gatlinburg, Tennessee and followed the main roads through the Smoky Mountain region and kept going until he'd passed through the Blue Mountains into Georgia.<p>

"All by yourself?" Rick asked, somewhat surprised at the idea that the man had been surviving in rough country so well for so long.

"Nah," Caleb said. "Got some family with me. My brother, his wife and their kids. My wife got bit back in Morganton just 'fore we crossed Blue Ridge, and we lost a couple others who were with us. It's just four of us now."

He looked around at them all as he spoke, taking note of their clothing, weapons and studying their faces in turn.

"Y'all from Atlanta?" he said, more of a statement than a question. "How bad is it there?"

"Bad enough," said Shane, studying him with equal scrutiny. Caleb looked to be anywhere between 40 and 60 years old. His dark hair was longish and scraggly, and marked with heavy gray all the way through. His skin had the appearance of a man who'd spent years outdoors, and he was dressed in full hunter's gear.

"Well," Caleb said, resting his rifle against his shoulder and looking steadily at Daryl until he lowered the crossbow. "Ain't too bad up here. We only seen a few walkers along the way, but the cold seems to make 'em slow. They're starvin' up here." He grinned abruptly at Daryl, perhaps recognizing another with hunting skills. His teeth were stained dark yellow.

"Ever seen a walker try to take a full grown black bear?"

"Can't say I have," Daryl replied evenly.

"Damnedest thing I ever saw, didn't know whether to shit myself or go bowling," he laughed loudly, the sound carrying across the water and making everyone jump. His eyes flickered past Daryl as Lex moved around from behind him, and the grin faded abruptly.

"Y'all got women and kids with ya?" He frowned at Rick.

"Yeah," he said. "My wife and son, a little girl and her mother. Couple others."

"Damn, boy," Caleb looked instantly concerned. "Y'all can't stay out here in the open. You're smack dab in the middle of the best fishing in the state. Bears come to grab fish from this very spot at night." Daryl blinked and turned to look back at the river, and Rick exchanged a glance with Shane and T-Dog.

"Shit," said Daryl.

"You said bears don't like people," T-Dog reminded him.

"Well, they don't," Caleb agreed, glancing at T-Dog and looking him over quickly. "But if they're hungry enough and yer in the way, they tend to forget that part. Y'all should bring yer families and come up to our place."

"And where might that be?" Daryl asked, suspicion clear in his voice.

"Just past that ridge over yonder," Caleb gestured back towards the woods behind him. "Used to be a rangers station, I reckon. There's a few small cabins an a fresh water pump, and the place is fenced in. We liked it 'cause it kept the walkers out, but we ain't seen none for a couple months." Everyone looked at each other, and Daryl shook his head at Rick. _No way._

"We need to discuss it for a bit," said Shane. Caleb looked at him steadily for a moment, then shrugged lightly.

"A'right. Just don't 'scuss too long, it'll be dark soon."

Daryl walked over to Rick and Shane, leaving Lex to stand uncomfortably alone with Caleb. He grinned at her with his yellow teeth, and T-Dog moved to stand nearby.

"I don't trust this guy," Daryl said immediately.

"You don't trust anyone," said Rick. "But that doesn't mean you're wrong."

"I don't know, man," Shane rubbed the back of his neck and glanced over to where Caleb stood talking to Lex and T-Dog. "He looks like a complete hillbilly, but that don't necessarily make him bad. Besides, he's got family with him. Kids. Maybe he's just doin' the same thing we are, surviving."

"So let's check it out," Rick suggested. "We got those short range walkies Glenn found at the shop. You, me and Dale will go up there and see if he's on the level, and if it's okay we'll call for the others to come on up." Shane considered this for a moment, then nodded.

"We should get moving then," he said. "I'll go get the walkies and Dale, and let the others know.

"Why Dale?" Daryl demanded as Shane headed towards the campsite. "Maybe I wanna see for myself."

"And maybe I need you here, watching over the others." Rick countered. "I've seen you shoot, Dixon." Daryl grunted and looked back at Caleb for a few seconds. Alexis was listening to him as he talked with T-Dog, but looked like she couldn't understand a thing he was saying.

"Ain't you all seen _Deliverance?_" he said, and Rick shook his head with a half-smile.

"Yeah," he said. "Burt Reynolds was a mean shot with a crossbow if I recall correctly."

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong>  
>Allman Brothers, <em>Ramblin' Man<em>  
>Bob Dylan,<em> Blowin' in the Wind<em> - Happy Birthday to my Mom and the Tambourine Man himself.


	20. Family Affairs

_She would never say where she came from_  
><em>Yesterday don't matter if it's gone<em>  
><em>While the sun is bright or in the darkest night<em>  
><em>No one knows, she comes and goes<em>

_Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday_  
><em>Who could hang a name on you<em>  
><em>When you change with every new day<em>  
><em>Still I'm gonna miss you<em>

_Don't question why she needs to be so free_  
><em>She'll tell you it's the only way to be<em>  
><em>She just can't be chained to a life where nothing's gained<em>  
><em>And nothing's lost, at such a cost<em>

_Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday_  
><em>Who could hang a name on you<em>  
><em>When you change with every new day<em>  
><em>Still I'm gonna miss you<em>

_There's no time to lose, I hear her say_  
><em>Cash your dreams before they slip away<em>  
><em>Dying all the time lose your dreams and you<em>  
><em>Will lose your mind, ain't life unkind?<em>

_Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday_  
><em>Who could hang a name on you<em>  
><em>When you change with every new day<em>  
><em>Still I'm gonna miss you<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Family Affairs<br>**

Caleb's campsite lay just under a mile away, an easy trek through the woods and up the sloping ridge. He chatted amiably as they went, going on about how good the hunting was with nobody else around, clean water, plenty of trails and no need for the things one got used to living a more civilized life. Dale walked beside him and questioned him extensively about the area, and Caleb was only too happy to oblige.

"There's an apple orchard about ten miles west," he explained. "Huge. We don't got the hands to do a real harvest but it'll do us for a spell. Jasper - that's my brother - well, his wife even planted a garden with a bunch 'a seeds she found at a garden shop along the way. She's a good 'un, she can grow jus' about anything. All's we got are some 'taters for this winter and string beans and tomaters right now. Other than that we get by on deer meat, and Jasper even shot a bear a couple weeks ago. He makes damn good hard cider out of them apples too, if any of ye got the taste for it."

Shane gritted his teeth against the man's endless rambling, train-of-thought speech patterns, but the more he heard the more he wondered if these folks weren't better of than anyone else.

"I bet Dixon would love it up here," he remarked to Rick as Caleb launched into a descriptive explanation of how to skin a bear. "Less people and more animals to shoot."

"I bet he would," Rick agreed. "But the last thing we need is to lose another pair of hands right now. Let's hope he doesn't like it too much." Shane said nothing, and Rick took his silence for agreement. The narrow trail bended right, and moments later they all stood at the top of a small downward slope, with Caleb's homestead laid out before them.

It had indeed once been a ranger's station. A large log cabin stood against a wide, circular loose-stone driveway. It boasted a wide front porch that wrapped around one side, and as rustic as it looked it had clearly been built to fit in with the outdoor tourist attractions in the area. Across the clearing five very small cabins stood under the trees, and there was a utility shed in the main cabin's back yard. A wider path led past the cabin and a small building could just be seen through the trees beyond. A high roughly-built fence surrounded the entire area, and they'd jury-rigged it with lengths of barbed wire and solid sticks carved sharp at the ends.

"Guess they had horses here once," Caleb said. "There's a corral and an old barn that way. We don' use it for anything, there's a cellar under the cabin for cool storage. If yer young 'uns come up be sure they stay out of the barn, it's old and prob'ly not safe. We got no runnin' water, but there's an old well with a hand pump behind the shed. We been drinkin' from it and it ain't killed us yet!" he thumped Dale hard on the back, and the older man grunted.

"Come on in," Caleb invited them all with a grin, and started forward. Dale glanced back at Rick and Shane, and then shrugged with an expression that said it looked a lot better than he'd thought it would. They followed Caleb to a small crooked gate in the fence, and he opened it to let them through.

"We built the fence soon as we got here," he explained. "Bears are good natural defense from any walkers that might wander up this far, but ain't no sense in taking chances."

A woman came around from behind the main cabin as the small group entered the yard. She had black hair and sun-browned skin, and was dressed in the same sort of hunter's clothing that Caleb wore. She looked lean and hard, her face more handsome and strong than pretty.

"That's Kinta," Caleb said. "Her daddy was a Choctaw from Oklahoma. She's more 'n half injun, but we don't mind 'cause she can cook like nobody in this world. They ain't actually married in the _legal_ sense, but it don't make no difference now."

Kinta looked more than surprised to see them, and froze in place, her eyes going wide until Caleb smiled and waved at her.

"We got guests, Kinta. Where's that no-good man of yers and yer half-breed little bastards?"

After Kinta's no-good man Jasper, and their little bastards Nita and Seth made an appearance, Caleb gave Rick and Dale a quick tour of the place while Shane walked the perimeter of the place himself, preferring to see with his own eyes rather than through Caleb's. The sun was starting to set when they decided that they could find nothing particularly wrong with the place, aside from the fact that Caleb never stopped talking.

Jasper was the quieter brother, but seemed friendly enough. He reminded Rick of Jim with his soft-spoken, haunted voice. Kinta wore a hard exterior, but her eyes softened when she smiled. Seth looked like his father and was anything but little, standing nearly six feet tall at fourteen years old. His awkward, gangly limbs were a strange contrast to the hard, mature look to his face. Nita, on the other hand was nine years old, but barely taller than a five-year-old. She appeared to have inherited every Native American trait from her mother's bloodline. Her eyes were very dark, shy and scared, and Caleb reported that she hadn't spoken a single word or made hardly a sound at all since they left Tennessee. She hid her face in her mother's jacket, holding onto her belt with both hands like a toddler, and refused to look at any of the visitors.

Rick looked at the little girl and her mother for a few moments, then nodded wordlessly at Shane and Dale.

* * *

><p>"It's almost dark," Glenn looked up at the sky anxiously. "We should have heard from them by now. Is that thing on?" He turned to T-Dog, who was standing a few yards from the small campfire with the walkie-talkie. Lori, Andrea, Carol and the kids were sitting nearby, and Jacqui was sitting cross-legged on the hood of T-Dog's Explorer. Alexis was standing alone by the river, just within earshot, and Daryl was pacing around the entire area in a circle, watching the woods and waiting.<p>

"It's on," T-Dog said. "Just like I told you five minutes ago."

"Ain't seen any bears yet," Daryl spoke up, and T-Dog looked at him with a frown.

"Say what?" he asked.

"I _said_," Daryl turned his pacing walk towards him. "I ain't seen any bears yet. The way that guy was talkin' this place is swarming with 'em."

"I thought he said they only come out at night," Andrea spoke up, and Daryl shook his head.

"Bears ain't nocturnal like bobcats or other hunters. They're out at night, sure, but they're always lookin' for food. Daytime don't bother them none." Alexis turned her head to look at him thoughtfully, then at T-Dog and Glenn.

"Besides," Daryl added. "It's gettin' cold. Bears eat heavy for months before they hibernate."

"I know nothin' about bears," T-Dog said. "But it seems to me like the mountain dude does." Daryl snorted and resumed pacing.

"So what do we do if they don't come back?" Glenn said.

"We do just like Rick said," T-Dog replied. "We lock ourselves in the RV until morning, then if they still aren't back we head out and go straight to the CDC." They'd already rolled up the tents and packed everything else in bags and backpacks, ready for either a quick departure or a retreat to the RV.

"They'll come back," said Lori. "Even if they don't, we're _not _leaving without them."

Any argument that might have arisen from her statement was cancelled when Shane's voice came crackling over the small radio. Everybody stood up and gathered closer as T-Dog answered, and listened to Shane's directions for reaching Caleb's camp.

"All right then," T-Dog looked around at the others. "Let's go. We can get there before it's too dark if we go now.

Daryl stood scowling as the others quickly gathered their gear, and Alexis watched him for a minute before speaking.

"No bears?" She asked quietly.

"Plenty," he said. "Just not here."

He took the lead as the group filed into the woods and found the narrow trail quickly, taking with him the only flashlight they had in case it got too dark to see the path ahead. T-Dog brought up the rear with Glenn, and they kept the children in the middle. Shane had said it was a straight, easy walk with no detours, but Daryl could not shake the sense of unease that only grew stronger as they left the safety of the vehicles behind.

The trail was marked with signs and low fences along the way, making it easier to stay on track as dusk settled over the forest. Alexis walked behind Daryl, letting him put a short distance between himself and the group as he'd demanded. It would give them time to react if he spotted anything ahead. Andrea moved along the path beside her, saying little but keeping her eyes focused on the dark woods around them.

"He thinks this is a bad idea, doesn't he?" she said softly to Alexis, when Daryl paused once up ahead as if he'd heard something.

"He thinks everything is a bad idea," Alexis replied.

"Maybe he's right," Andrea said. Alexis glanced at her, but Andrea only watched the path ahead until Daryl waved them on.

* * *

><p>By nightfall they reached the small homestead, and were greeted by a large welcoming fire in the middle of the clearing, serving to provide light and warmth against the chill that had only grown deeper as the sun set. The large log cabin had no power, but candles were set in the front windows and the flickering light of a fire inside added more warmth to the scene.<p>

Rick, Shane and Dale were sitting around the fire with bowls of something steaming in their hands, talking to Caleb and another man, and looking very comfortable. Daryl caught the distinct smell of venison stew, and despite the nagging feeling at the base of his spine he realized how much he hated pork rinds. They all stood up as the group came into view, and Caleb hurried to open the gate for them.

An hour later, after heaping portions of hearty venison and wild mushroom stew were consumed by all, Jasper broke out the hard cider that he had stored in various containers and passed it around. It tasted terrible, but only Alexis, Carol and Jacqui declined more after the first taste. Kinta surprised them by offering to brew tea from peppermint leaves and honey in a pot hanging in the fireplace inside. Alexis followed her with the intention to help, but found herself wandering around the large main room, looking at the photos on the walls and the slightly tacky hunter's cabin decor.

"Hey," Kinta called to her quietly, glancing at the door as if not wanting to be heard by the others outside. She held up a fifth-sized bottle filled with brown liquid with a secretive smile.

"My secret ingredient is rum. I can't drink that piss Jasper makes." She tipped a tiny amount of it into the brewing tea, then took a drink from the bottle and held it out to Alexis with a wink.

"Go ahead," she said when Alexis hesitated. "Ain't gonna last anyway." Alexis hesitated another moment, then took the bottle and returned the woman's smile. Kinta crouched down in front of the fire to stir the tea as Alexis sat down in an overstuffed armchair and took a drink, then another. Somebody laughed loudly outside as Kinta stood up with the steaming pot and pointed to a nearby shelf that held several mugs and glasses. Alexis heard Glenn calling her name as she gathered up as many mugs and Kinta slipped the rum bottle into an inside pocket in her jacket.

"They're already drunk, I reckon," she laughed. "Jasper's cider would be illegal if there was still law."

Glenn called her again as the two came outside, and Shane was shaking his head as if annoyed with whatever conversation was going on. Daryl was sitting next to Caleb, and the two seemed to be having a serious discussion about his crossbow while drinking cider out of two wide-mouthed jars. Alexis looked at him in surprise for a moment, then decided that hard alcohol had been the key to making him relax a bit. Sophie and Nita were sitting off to the side of the group, Sophie doing all the talking as they exchanged dolls and played a game nobody else understood.

"What?" Alexis said as she settled herself down and set the mugs in a line so Kinta could pour the tea. Dale rolled his eyes and shook his head as Glenn started laughing again. Kinta handed out the mugs to the others, then left them to put Nita to bed. Lori and Carol followed her lead with Sophie and Carl in tow, having been offered a spare bedroom for the kids on the cabin's small second floor. Jasper and Seth had disappeared after the cider was well on its way to being gone.

"They need you to settle a bet," Rick said, and reached a hand out to Glenn. "Come on, give it here." Glenn handed him a rolled-up magazine with the cover missing, and Rick flipped through it for a moment until he found what he was looking for.

"Dale says that's you, but Glenn thinks it looks nothing like you." he said, and held up the magazine open to an article with a large, full-page photo. Alexis leaned forward and took the magazine, studying it with a small, wistful smile. It was an article she'd written just over a year ago, after exposing a local politician for embezzlement and fraud. It was the only thing she'd ever written that had been published nationally, and she'd been amused by the fact that it took a public scandal to push her career up a notch.

"That's me," she laughed, although she could see why Glenn did not believe it. She barely recognized herself, the photo was taken during a streaky-blonde phase and she was wearing clothes that cost more than her yearly mortgage. "Took me months to nail that guy," she mused, and flipped through it for a moment, then passed it over to T-Dog, who was making grabby hands for it. Shane leaned over his arm curiously and frowned at the photo.

"You're a journalist?" he asked, looking genuinely surprised.

"I was," she said thoughtfully, and sipped at Kinta's tea. It was sweet and the rum warmed her throat. She was already starting to feel more relaxed than she'd felt in months.

"College educated," Shane said, and leaned back as T-Dog pushed at him irritably.

"I guess," she said.

"You owe me ten bucks," Dale said to Glenn, and everyone looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"What the hell you going to do with ten bucks?" T-Dog asked. "Buy more magazines?"

"I don't have ten bucks anyway," Glenn laughed. "But maybe Lex will autograph this thing."

Everyone except Shane and Daryl laughed as Alexis rolled her eyes, almost wishing it had never come up. The magazine made a full pass around the fire, and Daryl looked at it briefly before handing it back to until Glenn.

"How'd you end up with a couple of small-town boys like the Dixons?" Shane asked Alexis bluntly. She glanced at Daryl, but he was watching Shane with a guarded expression that she couldn't read.

"I was heading to Atlanta with my brother to cover a concert," she said. "We hit a walker in the road, before we even knew what a walker was. By the time we got to the next town to report it, everything was already starting to go down. It just took a few days for us to figure that out. The military shut everything down, but they were overrun fast. Peter - my brother - worked out a plan with Daryl. The four of us made a run for it."

"Four," said Rick. "Your brother didn't make it." Alexis gave him a small smile and shook her head.

"So the Dixon brothers rescued you out of the goodness of their hearts, huh? Sure they weren't just looking for something a little more...?" Shane smirked at Daryl, who was now giving him a stare of absolute icy steel.

"Shane," said Rick warningly.

"What happened to your face?" Glenn asked abruptly, eager to change the subject. "You looked like hell when you got to the camp." Dale gave him a disgusted stare, and Glenn looked back at him. _What?_

"I saw Merle stuck on the roof of the department store," Alexis answered, keeping her eyes on the fire. "I tried to get to him, but he was already gone by the time I got up there. I saw which way he'd run and tried to follow him, but I was attacked by a bunch of... well, the Vatos call them _banditos_. I have more descriptive words. They tried to rape me, and they would have if three Vatos weren't out looking for those guns in the street. They killed them, I think, then took me back to the nursing home. I was out cold when you all came to visit."

"Damn," Glenn said quietly. "And I thought the dead ones were the worst things out there."

"They're bad enough," Alexis sighed. "But they're _dead_. They don't think, feel or hurt people just to make themselves feel stronger. They don't care. It's instinct that drives them. The living can be far worse if you ask me." She looked up at Daryl, who was watching her face closely as she spoke. He returned her gaze steadily during the brief silence that followed.

"Everything's different now," Dale spoke up. "But in some ways nothing has really changed. People are still people, it's just the best and worst of them that comes out during a fight."

"What's that mean?" Glenn frowned, his eyes suddenly looking very tired.

"We're all fighting to survive," Dale said. "Whether we fight for ourselves, our family, friends... it doesn't make a difference. But when you _lose_ the thing you've been fighting for... the rules of engagement change. Fighting just to see the sun rise in the morning isn't enough." He paused for a moment, his eyes turning towards the cabin Andrea was sharing with Jacqui for the night. Alexis felt her vision start to swim, and she rubbed her eyes hard in attempt to refocus. Dale's eyes were heavy and lidded, and he rested his chin on his hand, looking off into the distance.

"So what are we supposed to do?" Alexis asked him. "Just stop fighting?"

"Everyone has something or someone they'd willingly die for," he said. "The real trick is to find something to _live_ for."

"That's pretty deep, man," Glenn said, his speech slurring slightly. "Damn, I'm tired." Caleb suddenly stood up and stretched with what Alexis thought was a very exaggerated yawn.

"Y'all can use the little cabins if you want," he said. "One of 'em has a hole in the ceiling, but the others are fine. Dusty, though. They sleep four in bunks, so there's room for everyone."

Rick stood up, swaying slightly from an alcohol rush to his head, and shook Caleb's hand. Shane did the same, although he'd not drunk quite as much cider and didn't sway.

"We're much obliged to you," Rick said. "Even if it's only one night, hospitality means a lot these days."

"Kinta's up at dawn," Caleb slapped Shane on the shoulder buddy-style. "If we had chickens there'd be eggs for breakfast, but venison goes a log way!" Daryl stood up to follow him, but Alexis saw him quickly pour the rest of his cider onto the ground before Caleb turned to him.

"Come on, boy. I'm about to put yer crossbow to shame. Wait'll you see _mine._" He headed off towards the storage shed behind the main cabin as Rick made his way up the steps to join Lori and Carl. Daryl followed him, his expression thoughtful as he passed Alexis. She watched until all were out of sight, then rubbed her eyes tiredly and drained the last of her tea.

"Guess Daryl's got himself a new redneck friend." Shane said. "Man, if God had a reason for making Dixons, I sure as hell don't see it."

"Come on, man don't start." T-Dog said. "I'm the last one to stand up and be counted with those rednecks, but Daryl pulls his own weight. Ain't you had enough of the pissing contest anyway?" Shane shook his head and took a deep swallow of the cider, then directed his gaze at Alexis.

"Damned if I can't figure out what you're doin' with that guy," he said. "Smart, pretty. Way out of his league."

"We've got_ leagues_ now?" Dale frowned at Shane. "You know, the only real difference between all of us now is upbringing."

"Not the only difference," Shane mumbled.

"They saved my life," Alexis said to Shane, and all three of them looked at her. "Daryl _and_ Merle. Both of them. I could barely keep up with them, but they didn't leave me behind. I don't know why, and I don't care."

"Okay, so the Dixons get five points each for a good deed," Shane said. "But I was there at the barn that day, when they both thought you were dead. I saw them, and I can tell you one thing, Merle Dixon didn't give a rat's ass about you. _One less mouth to feed_, that's what he said."

"Well, that sounds like Merle," Dale said. "Although I hardly think he's the best role model for humanity."

"So you got to the city on your own," Shane ignored Dale. "Survived things that most of us don't even want to think about. You found a safe place, friends, people who liked you. But you left them all behind the second you found out where Daryl was."

"What exactly is your point?" Alexis asked Shane.

"Guess I don't really have one," he said. "Just wondering what someone who would appear to have some intelligence is doing with a two-bit dirtbag like Daryl Dixon."

"Daryl isn't Merle," Alexis reminded him.

"I know that," Shane replied. "He's smarter than his brother, I'll give him that much. He's one hell of a hunter and we'd have been livin' on canned goods without him. But he's just as mean-spirited as Merle and twice as hot-headed. So what is it? Gratitude? Some weird sense of misplaced loyalty? Or maybe you're just _slumming_, since there ain't nobody you know around here to care."

"Jesus," T-Dog said. "What the hell's your problem, man? You always such an asshole when you drink?" Shane glared into the fire, fully aware that Alexis' expression had turned to complete stone. He'd regretted the words before he'd even spoken them, but lately it seemed that his mouth worked in any way it wanted to, whether he wanted it to or not.

"You don't know anything about me," Alexis finally said.

"No, I don't," Shane sighed, and he swallowed the last of the cider as he stood up. "And I am drunk. I'll apologize for being an asshole in the morning. Damn, that stuff tastes like piss," he mumbled as he left, heading for the small cabins. Alexis stared into the fire for a few moments, trying to ignore the awkward silence he left in his wake.

"Seems like Shane is trying to take Daryl's angry redneck title away," T-Dog finally said. "But he's not very good at it."

"Daryl's got years of practice," Alexis yawned. "He's been fighting just to get by his entire life. Nothing's different for him now, it's the same fight in a new arena."

"It might be the same fight," Dale smiled at her. "But the rules of engagement have changed."

* * *

><p>"He don't like you much, do he?" Caleb said as Daryl caught up to him. Daryl shrugged, not finding any reason to deny it, or care. He followed Caleb past the main cabin towards the storage shed that lay at the end of the yard up against the first line of trees. He thought that was where they were headed, but Caleb went past it and followed the narrow path towards the old barn further out in the woods, beyond the fence. Daryl quietly fitted an arrow into the crossbow, keeping one eye on Caleb and the other on the surrounding woods.<p>

"The rest of 'em seem all right, I guess," Caleb continued. "Although I could do without the niggers and the chink. Where y'all headed tomorrow?"

"Back to Atlanta," Daryl said. "Grimes has got it in his head to see if there's anyone left at the CDC."

"Damn fool decision if you ask me," Caleb grunted, and Daryl didn't mention that he hadn't asked him.

"Maybe," he said. "But if there is anyone left there, it might be worth the risk."

"Is it?" Caleb stopped walking and turned to face Daryl. The moon was up, and cast enough light on the two of them so Daryl could see his expression was thoughtful and calculating.

"Think about that," Caleb said. "You got an old man and women and children with ya. If it was just you and them two cops, maybe y'all would have a good chance. The nigger looks like he'd be handy in a fight. But what if somethin' happens to those li'l ones, or your lady friend? Y'all could just stay here, you know. We could use the hands, and you'd all be safe. Winter's comin' too... y'all can't just keep wanderin' once the snow starts."

Daryl watched the man's face as he spoke. He hadn't trusted him from the second he first set eyes on him, and he still didn't trust him. But the fact that he was making some sense was starting to confuse the situation.

"They want answers," he finally said. "They wanna know what happened and if anyone knows that, they're probably at the CDC."

"Doesn't matter what happened," Caleb snorted. "Knowin' ain't going to change everything back. Look at this place. No gov'ment, no law tellin' us what we can and can't do. We got ever'thing we need right here, 'cept more hands for the work. You know this place is better than anything you might find in Atlanta. You could have a decent life here, you and that pretty thing makin' eyes at ya back there. She might feel the same way if ya asked 'er."

"What didja want to show me?" Daryl asked, attempting to change the subject. Caleb studied his face for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

"Didn' drink any of the cider, did ya?" he asked, and Daryl frowned. "Yeah, I saw ya dumped it out. Don' matter none. Jasper can't brew for shit, jus' none of us got the heart to tell him. Come on," he gestured towards the barn. Daryl hesitated and glanced back in the direction of the fire, but Caleb waved as if dismissing the others completely.

"They'll all be sleepin' by now. I figgered you wouldn't drink none. Pegged you as the smart one right off."

"What th'hell did you do?" Daryl asked. Caleb didn't answer as he approached the barn door and fished a key out of his pocket to unlock the padlock that was keeping it closed. He dragged the door open, then turned to face Daryl again.

"I ain't done nothin' any other man wouldn't do," he said. The carefree, cheerful tone in his voice was gone, and he studied Daryl with eyes suddenly cold and hard. "I'm just a man tryin' to keep my family alive, that's all. I'm askin' you to stay because we need help up here. If the others don' wanna stay, well that's their choice, ain't it? Yer girl can stay here with ya. Maybe that woman, too... the one with the little girl. She's alone, ain't she? Got no man? Nobody should be alone, not now. Ain't got much use for th' others if they don' wanna stay."

He went inside the barn, and Daryl stood torn for a moment, completely confused. He wanted to run back up to the fire and make sure Alexis and the others were all right, but Caleb's strange behavior was making him curious about what he wanted him to see in the barn. So he went inside, crossbow raised and ready to fire. Caleb stood off to the right, at a small workbench in the corner. As Daryl's eyes started to adjust to the darkness inside, Caleb lit a match and turned up the wick on a small oil lantern. Somewhere inside the barn something moved, shuffled.

"Easy now," Caleb said as Daryl pointed the crossbow in the direction of the sound. "She can't hurt nobody." He raised the lantern so its light cast around the barn, shadows flickering unevenly across the old wooden interior. Daryl frowned down the length of the crossbow, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. A new sound reached him after a moment, and he recognized immediately the gurgling, throaty growl of a walker just as it came into view.

"What the fuck?" Daryl exclaimed as the walker stumbled towards him, hands outstretched. Caleb moved fast and slapped the crossbow so Daryl's shot went wide, missing its target completely. The walker rushed forward, then stopped short and jerked backwards, tumbling to the floor. Daryl blinked as he realized it was tethered by a chain to a heavy metal ring on the back wall. He watched in dumbfounded silence as the walker got back up and started forward again, only to reach the end of the lead and fall back a second time.

"That's Ruby," Caleb said sadly. "My wife."

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> The Rolling Stones, _Ruby Tuesday_


	21. Promises in the Dark

Hey y'all! Still hungry, I see. Don't worry, I've got more. First a couple of thank-yous and shoutouts... you guys totally rock my little fanfiction world.

**websterjude** - ah, the soundtracks of our lives... man, I hunted all over for lyrics on that last one. I already used my favorite crazy song "Down with the Sickness" when everything went bad in Atlanta, but in the end the choice for Ruby was blatantly obvious. I like your visual of the credits. Often times when you watch a movie, it's the closing-credit-music that wraps up the story and says "this is what it's all about." Every little thing we do with our lives has a soundtrack, and there's a song for everything that happens to everyone... you just have to find it. :) I'm flattered if you discovered "The Cave" from reading this, that song is a small masterpiece by itself and should be appreciated by all.  
><strong>JoanieNobody<strong> - your comments helped me pick the song lyrics for this chapter. That may not seem like much to others, but to me it's a very important detail.  
><strong>ChaoticxTheoreticals<strong> - As a fan of the comics long before the show, I was a little bored by Shane's one-sided characterization. His part was very small, but I suspect he was intended to be a plot device, which is important to keep the story flowing. But since the show has taken some liberties and given him more depth, I see a lot more potential for more interesting conflicts with him.  
><strong>dragoness0420<strong> - what is it with insane hillbillies, and why are they vilified so easily? I'm trying to be fair so all hillbillies are not lumped into the crazy corner together, I really am!  
><strong>ChildlikeEmpress<strong> - in direct contrast to my above comment, you shouldn't accept anything from weird hillbillies in the woods during an apocalypse. It's only common sense.  
><strong>viktorskrumpet:<strong> I think Dale's profound ramblings are spot-on. Just surviving isn't necessarily the same as living, but having something to live for makes it worth while. Thank you, I'm glad folks caught that. It was a long conversation.  
><strong>SuziQ22-<strong> ask and you shall receive... soon. :)

**Thanks also to:**  
>Lucy Freebird<br>K  
>Zsra187<br>constantlylost  
>murphstheman<br>Zsra187  
>marc<br>GingerGidget  
>xXBXx<br>constantlylost

...and anyone else who slips in a review while I write this new chapter. Keep the feedback coming!

* * *

><p><em>Come inside and be afraid<em>  
><em>Of this impressive mess I've made<em>  
><em>If you take a look now you will find<em>  
><em>I have thrown away my vice<em>  
><em>Done away with paradise<em>  
><em>See what's going on inside my mind<em>  
><em>Please let me out<em>

_Branded like an animal_  
><em>I can still feel them burning my mind<em>  
><em>I do believe that you made your message clear<em>  
><em>I think I am losing my mind<em>  
><em>Deprivating, isolating all that I feel<em>  
><em>Leaving me with images I know are not real<em>  
><em>Are those words of condemnation that I hear<em>  
><em>I think I am losing my mind<em>

_Come inside now, I implore_  
><em>Do you think you can restore<em>  
><em>The crucial pieces missing from my brain<em>  
><em>What seems to be the matter dear<em>  
><em>Why do you cry and shake with fear<em>  
><em>I've only had the best dub me insane.<em>  
><em>Please let me out<em>

_Branded like an animal_  
><em>I can still feel them burning my mind<em>  
><em>I do believe that you made your message clear<em>  
><em>Deprivating, isolating all that I feel<em>  
><em>Leaving me with images I know are not real<em>  
><em>Are those words of condemnation that I hear<em>  
><em>I think I am losing my mind<em>

_I don't know how much I can take_  
><em>The secret thoughts inside me wake<em>  
><em>I've lost what was within me<em>  
><em>Oh sweet insanity<em>  
><em>Now I try again to find<em>  
><em>The thing that was my mind<em>  
><em>Behold the undersigned<em>  
><em>Who said I've lost my mind<em>

_Try again to find_  
><em>The thing that was my mind<em>  
><em>Behold the undersigned<em>  
><em>Who said I've lost my mind...<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Promises in the Dark<br>**

**Daryl  
><strong>

"Are you fuckin' crazy?" Daryl exclaimed. "Wait... of course you are. Yer keepin' a walker on a leash!"

"She ain't just a walker," Caleb retorted. "She's _family_, just like the rest of 'em. It ain't her fault she is what she is now."

"Of course it ain't her _fault_, but that don't change the fact that she's _dead!_"

"She's not dead," Caleb looked wounded by Daryl's reaction. "She's _sick_. She got bit by one of those things an' it made her sick. Sure you've got people who been bit, right?"

"Yeah," Daryl said. "An' I put a pickaxe through their brains myself to make sure they didn't get up afterwards. You can't _keep_ 'em, they ain't alive anymore! Just _look _at 'er!"

"I look at 'er every day," Caleb said firmly. "She ain't the same person as before but as long as we feed 'er she don't hurt nobody."

"Feed her?" Daryl echoed. "What the fuck do ya feed her?"

"We bring her live animals sometimes, rabbits or small deer and such. Jasper brought back that bear a couple weeks back and she was happy for a spell."

_Happy?_ Daryl could not believe he was awake and actually having this conversation. He stood watching as the woman who used to be Ruby snarled and struggled against the chain, intent only on reaching them and satisfying her hunger. Her hair might have once been blonde, but it now hung in decaying strands around what was left of her face. She still wore a thin, ragged dress that was once cornflower blue, but it did not do much to cover the exposed ribcage and decaying flesh beneath.

"I seen some sick shit in my life but this just beats all," Daryl said in disgust, and gripped his crossbow tighter. "Let me put 'er down now. It won't hurt her none."

"Put 'er down?" Now it was Caleb's turn to sound disgusted. "What you think she is, a _dog_?"

"I think she's already dead, you idiot!" Daryl shouted. "I don't know what kind of game y'all are playin' up here, but we're leavin' this place right now. You go ahead and keep 'er until she gets loose and eats ya."

He turned to leave the barn, intending to run straight back up to the main cabin, making as much noise as he could until somebody heard him. But he didn't get more than two steps before a wide, solid plank of wood came sailing out of the dark and slammed into his forehead. He saw stars instantly, and lost all sense of balance and gravity as he stumbled backwards and landed on the ground just outside the door. Caleb came forward and kicked the crossbow out of his reach.

"You son of a -" Daryl snatched at this hunting knife and swung it viciously as Seth came forward to hit him with the board again. The board cracked down hard across his elbow, and his fingers went numb, making it easy for Caleb to snatch the knife from him.

"Nobody's leavin' here, son," Caleb sighed. "Damn, you are one pig-headed sumbitch."

"What th'hell do you want from us?" Daryl shouted. Caleb knelt down on the ground to look Daryl straight in the eye. His expression was flat and lifeless, and Daryl thought for a moment that he looked as dead as the nightmare chained to the wall before them both.

"My Ruby is hungry," Caleb said. "She won't touch anything that ain't still warm, and she only eats the animals 'cause she can't get nuthin' else. Now, that ain't what I want for you, son. But the others, I ain't got no use for them. The kids will be all right, I ain't going to let anything happen to them. You can pick one of the women for yerself if ya want, but the rest of 'em have to go. It's jus' the way it is."

"Even if you think you can make me stay here," Daryl said. "What makes you think I'll ever do anything to help you?" Caleb gave him a smile, and Daryl didn't like that smile one bit.

"Because if you don't, I'll feed that pretty lady friend of yours to my Ruby one piece at a time, while you watch." Daryl stared back at him, and felt his hands starting to shake.

"I'll give you a choice, son. You give me your word, and I'll let the lady stay with you, safe as a bug in a rug. The kids, too if ya want. Sound fair?"

"You sick fuck," Daryl growled. Caleb shook his head, then looked up at Seth and nodded once. Daryl could only gape at them in stupefied shock as the board swung down at him again, and his world went black. Caleb and Seth stood looking down at him for a moment, then Caleb sighed, almost sadly.

"You got the others together?" he asked Seth.

"Yeah," the boy nodded. We put them two cops and the old man in the basement. Gave us a bit of a fight, but Mama's herbs are still working real good. The women and kids are locked in the big room upstairs, think they're still sleepin'. The nigger and the lady out by the fire are still right where they fell asleep, but we tied their hands and feet, they ain't goin' nowhere."

"What about the chink?" Caleb frowned, and Seth blinked at him blankly.

"The wha?"

"The chinaman," Caleb said with a touch of annoyance. "He went to sleep in one of the li'l cabins."

"Ain't seen 'im," Seth said. "You wan' me to go look for 'im?"

"Nah," Caleb said after a moment of consideration. "Even if he gets over the fence, he won't last in the woods by 'imself. Ain't nuthin he can do to us alone anyway." They both looked down at Daryl again, unconscious and oblivious as the two discussed the fate of his companions.

"You know," said Seth. "He _does_ kinda look like Josh."

"Yeah," Caleb said distantly, his thoughts straying momentarily to a time long gone, when he'd been happy with a simple life and family. Ruby, Little Joe and Josh... they were all that mattered to him, and now all that was left of any of them was a wasted bit of snarling, drooling flesh chained to the wall of a barn. When he'd set eyes on Daryl Dixon, the sense of loss had come back to him in a rush. He was the spitting image of his firstborn son, Joshua, and since then he'd not been able to shake the feeling that his lost boy had come back to him.

"He don't wanna stay, though," Seth pointed out. "Could be he'll too much for us to handle if he gets it in his head to fight."

"No," Caleb frowned. "He's a good boy deep down, I know it. He'll come around once the others are gone."

* * *

><p><strong>Glenn<strong>

Things had started out a little weird, but the appearance of food - real food - along with a warm fire, a safe place to sleep, and - let's face it - booze, the weird had changed into contentment pretty fast. Aside from Shane acting like a dick, Glenn had been pretty happy with the current situation, even if it was only for one night. But the cider was powerful stuff, and Glenn had found himself almost falling asleep on his feet as he stumbled off to one of the empty cabins after the venison feast was finished. He didn't even remember lying down, just found himself in a pleasant dream of sunshine and happy smiles almost immediately.

He'd been awakened by the sounds of a scuffle outside only a short time later, and crawled to the small window to peer out through the dirty panes to see what was going on. Shane was there, and Glenn stared in dazed confusion as Jasper and Seth struggled with him. At first he thought Shane was drunk and picking a fight with their hosts, but it quickly became clear that he was attempting to defend himself from both of them. Glenn jumped up with the intention of running outside and doing something, but he immediately grew dizzy and sat down hard on the floor. He heard a loud shout and hurried back to the window just as Jasper landed a hard punch on his jaw and Shane dropped like a stone.

"What the hell is going on?" Glenn started to feel panicky as they dragged Shane by his feet to the cabin. Jasper took him inside alone, and Seth went back out to the fire, where Dale, T-Dog and Alexis were apparently sound asleep. They wrestled Dale into the cabin with little difficulty, since he barely woke up enough to give them any real trouble, and Glenn realized they had not bothered to come for him at all. Maybe they didn't even know he was in here alone. They came back out a few minutes later, and argued briefly over how they were going to carry T-Dog inside. The man was just too big, even for both of them. In the end they bound his hands and feet with small lengths of rope, and did the same to Alexis. Then Seth headed off in the direction Daryl had gone with Caleb, and Jasper went back into the main cabin.

Glenn strained his eyes, trying to see past the fire. He was sure Daryl could take Caleb on by himself if he had to, but the odds were against him if that oversized teenager got in on it. Glenn hesitated for a few seconds, then darted out of the cabin towards the fire, watching the main cabin nervously.

"T-Dog!" he whispered loudly, and shook the larger man hard. "Hey, man wake up!" T-Dog was snoring loudly, completely unconscious. Glenn stood up and looked around fearfully as somebody shouted from a short distance away. It sounded like Daryl.

"Shit!" Glenn moved over to Alexis and shook her as hard as T-Dog, then started trying to untie the bonds on her ankles. "Lex! T-Dog! Come on you guys, what is the _matter_ with you?" he pulled the rope free after struggling with the knot for a moment, then rolled her over on her stomach to get at her hands. A small white bottle of pills fell out of her pocket as he did so, and he picked it up without thinking and stuffed it in his own pocket. The knot on her wrists wasn't moving, and Glenn cursed himself for being a poor Boy Scout and not carrying a knife. Suddenly he heard voices coming closer, and looked helplessly at T-Dog and Alexis before darting away and crawling under the steps of the cabin's front porch. Caleb and Seth came into view, talking together in low tones. Daryl was not with them.

"We tried to get 'im inside," Seth was saying as they walked over to where T-Dog and Alexis were sleeping. "But he's just too damn big."

"It don't matter," Caleb said. "Once he wakes up he can walk himself down to the barn. Shotgun in his back should be motivatin' enough."

"What about her?" Seth asked. "Ain't much to her, I can git her inside now."

"Nah, take her down to the barn," Caleb said. "Daryl be wakin' up soon enough an' they'll have time to think about things. Maybe she's got enough sense for both of 'em. I'm goin' inside to talk to yer Ma and Pa. When you get back we'll worry about this one," he nudged T-Dog with his foot, then turned and headed straight towards Glenn, who froze and held his breath as the man climbed the short stairs to the porch. Dust shuffled under his boots as he walked across the porch, falling on Glenn's head and making his nose tickle. For one horrible moment he felt a sneeze coming on, and yanked off his hat to clap it over his face and muffle the sound. But the sneeze died abruptly as Caleb closed the door behind him, and Glenn watched as Seth hauled Alexis up onto his shoulder and carried her fireman-style back the way he'd come. He crawled out from under the porch as soon as all was quiet again and stood indecisively for a moment, not sure how much time he had before someone came out again.

"It's _Deliverance_, I know it," he muttered to himself. "Just like Daryl said. Except he's not Burt Reynolds and we don't have a canoe. We're screwed. Totally and completely screwed."

He heard raised voices inside, and decided he couldn't risk trying to free T-Dog again. He thought he could run down the barn quietly enough, maybe if Daryl was awake the two of them could deal with Seth and then figure out what to do about the others. But if Daryl was just as unconscious as everyone else, Glenn would have to take Seth on himself, and he doubted that that would turn out too well. The voices inside got louder, and Glenn crept around to the back to one of the ground floor windows. It looked into a small kitchen, and he found himself looking at Caleb's back. He was seated at a small table across from Jasper, and Kinta stood near the stove, yelling at both of them.

"This has gone too far," she was saying. "Nobody said nothin' about anyone gettin' _eaten_. You said we were jus' goin to wait till they all fell asleep then go down to the camp and take some of the gas for the generator. That's all! they'd be miles away before they run out and figure out what happened!"

"Quiet down, Kinta," Caleb said. "You'll wake Nita with all your hollerin'."

"Maybe she should be awake!" Kinta shot back. "So she can see her uncle for the sick piece of shit that he is!"

"That's enough, woman!" Jasper thundered.

"You," she growled, focusing her anger on Jasper. "You're actually goin' along with this? And you're draggin' our boy into it! What's the matter with all of you?"

"He's my brother," Jasper said simply, as if that was enough to explain it all. Kinta stared at him in amazement, then looked at Caleb, whose expression Glenn couldn't see.

"What about those kids?" Kinta asked. "And their mothers? That boy Carl's _father_?"

"The kids will be fine," Caleb said. "They can stay here, we'll take good care of 'em. With Daryl's help we'll have all the hands we need come winter."

Glenn blinked at that last, and drew back from the window in shock. _With Daryl's help?_ He turned and looked back towards the barn, utterly confused. Was Daryl _helping_ these people? What the hell was going on?

"He. Is **not.** Josh," he heard Kinta say. "And if you do this he'll kill you the first chance he gets. Maybe all of us."

"No," said Caleb. "He'll come around. It might take some time, but he will. I knew it the first time I saw him... He's Josh, finally come back to his family."

"Josh is _dead!_" Kinta shouted. "Both of your boys are dead! They're not coming back! Not ever!" Caleb was up and out of his seat quick as a striking rattlesnake, and struck Kinta hard across the face. Jasper jumped up but stood back out of the way, watching with his hands clenched.

"I'm tired of your prairie-nigger mouth," Caleb growled at her. "You'd best keep it shut if ye know what's good for ya." They all suddenly looked out towards the main room at the same time, and Seth came into the kitchen.

"He's still out," the boy reported. "But they're both tied to the beam tight. They ain't gettin' out."

"Good boy," Caleb gave his shoulder a squeeze, then gestured for both he and Jasper to follow him. "Let's get that big one into the cellar with the others," he said. "We still got a few hours 'till mornin'. We should all get some rest and get started early tomorrow."

The three men left the room, and Kinta stood alone by table, rubbing her cheek with one hand and frowning. Then she shook her head and went to a tall cabinet across the room, taking out a large bowl and placing it in the middle of the table. Glenn watched her for a few moments, mostly because he was afraid that if he moved she might see him. She put both hands into the bowl and mixed whatever was inside it for a moment, then withdrew them dripping with something thick, brown and liquidy. Glenn realized that it was a stew of some kind, likely whatever they were planning to eat in the morning. As he watched, she dried off her hands on a small towel, then reached inside her jacket and drew out a fifth-sized bottle of what appeared to be rum and set it on a shelf before covering the bowl on the table and leaving the room.

A thought suddenly occurred to Glenn. They'd all drank the cider, except for Alexis, Carol and Jacqui. But Kinta had made tea for them, and Glenn was suddenly sure that it hadn't just been tea. They'd all been drugged to make it easier to do... whatever it was they were going to do. _Nobody said nothin' about anyone gettin' eaten,_ Kinta had said. _Eaten. They're going to eat us? It's not Deliverance. It's the Texas Chainsaw Massacre._

He waited until he was sure she was gone, then gathered his courage and slipped around to the small door that led into the kitchen. He turned the knob slowly, sure that it would be locked, and felt his heart start to pound faster when he found it was not. He tiptoed across the room to the table, heart pounding even faster at the notion that anyone could come in at any moment. They were all in the cabin now, he could hear the men grunting and cursing as they wrestled with T-Dog's large frame and dragged him towards the cellar door. "This guy never missed a dinner _in his life_," he heard one of them grunt, but he didn't pause to figure out who.

Glenn reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle of pills that had fallen out of Lex's pocket outside. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely open it, but he managed and spilled all of the little pink pills into his hand, counting them quickly. There were sixteen of them, and two had been enough to make Lex drowsy. Glenn dumped them all into the bowl and stirred it around with his hand. As an afterthought, he hurried over to the shelf and grabbed the bottle Kinta had placed there, then emptied all of its contents in as well and dashed back to the door. He barely had enough time to get it closed behind him again before Kinta came back into the kitchen to pick up the lantern on the table. Glenn stood flat against the back wall of the cabin until the lantern's glowing light disappeared completely.

"Okay," he said to himself, willing his heart to slow its frantic pace. "It would be really nice if they would all get the midnight munchies."

He knew he wasn't that lucky, though. But he also knew he was really good at being quiet, so he started moving around the back of the cabin, hoping against hope that the cellar might have a window or bulkhead door. The moon was making it's pass across the sky, and it would be morning soon. Glenn felt himself running out of time. In daylight he stood no chance of dealing with the three of them on his own, but if he could get Rick and the others out of the cellar their chances would greatly improve.

He spotted quick movement up ahead and froze mid-step. He hadn't heard any movement inside the cabin, and it wasn't likely that a deer or any other animals would get inside the fence. He looked back the way he'd come, then towards the barn, judging the distance in case he had to make a run for it. But running wasn't necessary, as it turned out. Glenn blinked in surprise as a very small nine-year-old girl stepped out of the shadows and beckoned to him, then put her finger on her lips.

* * *

><p><strong>Alexis<strong>

Consciousness returned in the form of a sudden, excruciating pain that shot straight through her head, making her gasp and then moan from the onslaught. She felt rather than heard someone stir close by, and wondered why she'd fallen asleep sitting up against a ... tree? She opened her eyes and stared into complete darkness, wondering if she was dreaming. But the sound of her own breathing and someone else close by told her she was not, and she started to panic, thinking she'd gone blind from hillbilly cider. Have to get up... stand up... She started to move her hands forward and found that she could not. Something was binding her wrists, and she pulled harder as the panic started to rise.

"Hey," a voice came from the dark. "You awake? Lex, stop moving around. You hear me?"

"Daryl?" she said in a loud whisper, "Where the hell are you? Why am I blind? Where am _I_?"

"Shh," he answered sharply. "I'm right behind you. Keep yer voice down." She pushed back against the solid object behind her and felt Daryl's fingers groping at her wrist until they found her left hand. She grabbed onto it tightly, her eyes wide and staring into the blackness.

"Take it easy," he said quietly. "We're okay. For now."

"This doesn't feel very okay," she said breathlessly, trying to get control of her spinning, confused brain.

"Yeah, I've been more comfortable," he said. "Did they hurt you?"

"They? They who? I was talking to Dale and T-Dog by the fire. Now I'm here. Where is here?"

"We're in the barn," he said. "I was awake when Seth brought you in, but didn' let on. We're tied to a beam in the middle of the barn, and these hillbillies tie a damn mean knot, I'll tell you. That Caleb is one crazy sumbitch. Can't believe I didn' see how crazy 'fore it was too late. _Stupid_."

"Can we back up to the part where we're tied up in the barn?" Alexis interrupted him. She'd managed to get her bearings as he spoke, and figured out they were tied back to back with a wide, splintery beam between them. She could reach both of his hands by stretching, but couldn't move them forward and there was no slack to work with. The place was so completely dark she couldn't see a single thing, not even any sort of light from outside.

"They drugged y'all," Daryl said. "The cider, and the tea that indian made. I didn't drink none, just dumped it out when Caleb wasn't lookin'."

"Drugged?" Alexis was still confused, even as she fought to shake off the effects of the grogginess. "Why? I don't understand. Wait... what is that noise? Do you hear that? Is there someone else here?"

"Yeah, I hear it. Promise you won't freak out when I tell you what it is," he said, and Alexis gave a short laugh.

"Are you kidding?" she said.

"There's a walker in here with us."

Alexis did her best not to freak out, but a slightly strangled-sounding gasp escaped her lips anyway. Daryl gave her a quick explanation of the events that had taken place, and Alexis listened with even more confusion and soon, sickness in her stomach. It made no sense. Aside from the fact that Caleb was keeping his dead wife chained to the wall inside his barn, neither she nor Daryl could figure out why he was so hell-bent on Daryl staying.

"What about the rest of us?" she whispered, very aware of the third occupant in the barn. "He wants you to stay, but what about us?"

"He said the kids would be safe, and you could stay here with me," Daryl said hesitantly after a moment.

"Why would the kids stay?" Alexis asked, feeling dread growing inside her. "Rick and Lori wouldn't leave Carl here, and Carol would never leave Sophie."

"He's not letting anyone leave," Daryl said. "He promised not to feed you or the kids to the walker if I agreed to stay." He listened to Alexis' breathing in the dark as she absorbed those words, and heard it catch in her chest a few times.

"And the others?" she finally asked. Daryl didn't say anything, but the silence was answer enough.

"Did you agree to stay?" she asked after a few long moments had passed.

"Does it matter?" he replied. "A deal with a crazy man ain't no deal at all."

"So he's going to feed us all to the walker." She wanted a definitive answer, and Daryl just didn't have one for her. The one thing he did know for a fact was that one way or another Caleb was not going to be living in this world much longer.

"Not gonna let anything happen to you," he finally said, and squeezed her hand again. "I promise."

* * *

><p><strong>Glenn<strong>

"Nita?" Glenn whispered. "That's your name, right?" She nodded solemnly, then reached out and grabbed his sleeve in her small hand and pulled. Glenn looked around uncertainly, but Nita pulled harder, her face screwed up in an anxious frown. She was gesturing towards the side of the cabin and beckoning for him to follow.

"Hey," Glenn hurried after her. "I need to get into the cellar. Can you help me? Is there a window or something?" She shook her head and frowned deeper, letting go of his sleeve. She ran around behind him and put her hands on his lower back, trying to physically push him in the right direction.

"Okay, okay," he said. "Where are we going? Do you know where my friends are?" She nodded up at him and smiled as he followed her around the side of the cabin. She stopped when they reached the side porch and pointed up. Glenn looked up at where her finger was pointing and saw a single window above the roof of the porch. It was open several inches, and Glenn realized she'd sneaked out of her window and climbed down from the porch roof.

"That's your room, right? Pretty sneaky." She smiled widely at him, showing a gap where she'd lost two baby teeth not long ago. Glenn looked up at the window, wondering if it was possible that he could get in through there, sneak through the house and get to the cellar without being heard. But Nita was shaking her head now, and tugging him over until they were standing under the next window. She pointed up at it, then showed Glenn something she was holding under her other arm. It was Sophie's doll, the one she'd carried with her almost everywhere since he'd first seen her.

"Sophie's in there?" he asked. "And her mom and the other women too?" Nita nodded, and Glenn looked up at the roof. Hell, he'd climbed a lot worse in Atlanta, with walkers in huge numbers right behind him. Besides, if she could do it...

"Okay," he said. "You should go back before somebody notices you're gone." She nodded and started towards the porch railing, then stopped and came back to him, beckoning that little finger again until he bent down so she could whisper something in his ear.

"There's a monster in the barn," she said, then scurried away and scaled the side of the porch up to the roof.

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Disturbed, _Perfect Insanity_


	22. Consequences

_Carry on my wayward son_  
><em>There'll be peace when you are done<em>  
><em>Lay your weary head to rest<em>  
><em>Don't you cry no more<em>

_Once I rose above the noise and confusion_  
><em>Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion<em>  
><em>I was soaring ever higher<em>  
><em>But I flew too high<em>  
><em>Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man<em>  
><em>Though my mind could think I still was a mad man<em>  
><em>I hear the voices when I'm dreaming<em>  
><em>I can hear them say<em>

_Carry on my wayward son_  
><em>There'll be peace when you are done<em>  
><em>Lay your weary head to rest<em>  
><em>Don't you cry no more<em>

_Masquerading as a man with a reason_  
><em>My charade is the event of the season<em>  
><em>And if I claim to be a wise man, well<em>  
><em>It surely means that I don't know<em>  
><em>On a stormy sea of moving emotion<em>  
><em>Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean<em>  
><em>I set a course for winds of fortune<em>  
><em>But I hear the voices say<em>

_Carry on my wayward son_  
><em>There'll be peace when you are done<em>  
><em>Lay your weary head to rest<em>  
><em>don't you cry no more<em>

_Carry on, you will always remember_  
><em>Carry on, nothing equals the splendor<em>  
><em>The center lights around your vanity<em>  
><em>But surely heaven waits for you<em>

_Carry on my wayward son_  
><em>There'll be peace when you are done<em>  
><em>Lay your weary head to rest<em>  
><em>don't you cry no more<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Consequences<strong>

_"Not gonna let anything happen to you, I promise."_

Alexis took some comfort in Daryl's words, but she was all too aware that the promise did not extend to any of the others. Daryl couldn't do a thing for them, even if he wanted to. Caleb had put him in the position of being able to save one person, and he would have to agree to the man's terms in order to do so. If Daryl was able to swallow his anger and make the agreement, it wouldn't do any good for any of the other people whose lives were at stake.

The pitch darkness of the barn only added to the element of approaching doom, and they stopped talking in the hopes that the unseen walker would settle down. The thin nylon ropes around their wrists were far too tight, and soon they both began to lose feeling in their fingers. Daryl started twisting his wrists around, testing the pull of the ropes and hoping to keep the blood circulating, mostly because he knew he wouldn't be able to throttle Caleb with his bare hands if they weren't working when they finally were untied. Alexis flinched every time he did, feeling the pull against her own wrists. Soon they realized they were connected somehow by the ropes, and by combining their efforts of pulling and twisting, they had managed to create a small amount of slack by morning.

"What are you doing?" Alexis whispered as she suddenly felt the ropes start to slide up slightly, and the beam rocked just a bit as Daryl placed his full weight against it.

"Got a knife down on my ankle," he grunted. "It's small enough they never saw. Can't reach it." She heard his feet shuffle on the floor and realized he was trying to get them under himself and maneuver a hand around to his foot. The ropes pulled hard on her wrists as he moved, and she bit her lip as she felt them rubbing through the skin, drawing blood.

"Need more slack," Daryl paused, breathing heavily from his efforts as well as mounting frustration. Alexis gritted her teeth and twisted her right hand hard, feeling the rope cut deeper into her skin. But then she felt the rope starting to slide easier, and she realized that her own blood was lubricating the surface of the rope. She changed tactics and started trying to pull her hand out of the loop instead of loosen it, moving her hand up and down so more blood seeped and added to the rest. Daryl made a frustrated sound and shoved hard with his feet, and Alexis felt one of the loops slide up past her thumb.

"Do that again," she said quickly.

"Do what?" he frowned into the dark.

"Whatever you just did, it's loosening the rope around my right hand." Daryl pushed again, trying to recreate whatever he'd done, and Alexis almost shouted a few minutes later as her right hand suddenly freed itself from its bonds.

"Sun's comin' up," Daryl said, and she saw dim light starting to peek through the cracks in the barn door. She yanked fruitlessly at her left hand, finding that it was bound as tightly as ever before, and almost screamed in frustration.

"Where's that knife?" she swung her body around, still tethered to the beam by one hand, and found herself looking at the dim outline of Daryl's profile as light started to creep inside.

"Right ankle," he said breathlessly, and drew his leg up as much as he could, trying to get his foot within reach of her free hand. She stretched as hard as she could, hearing Daryl grunt as she placed extra weight on the ropes, making them pull on him hard.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Can you lean forward a little?"

"No," he gasped, his voice now sounding strangled. "Chokin'." She immediately stopped pulling and groped at him until she found his throat and the rope that was looped around it, keeping his head back firmly against the beam. It was tight and starting to dig into his skin, and she realized in horror that she might have strangled him.

"Daryl," she breathed. "Why didn't you say something?" She felt around the rope, thinking she could loosen it if it was only tied once to the beam, but they had looped it around his neck twice before tying it to the beam, and every time he'd moved it had pulled tighter.

"Need that knife," he croaked. "Now." He twisted his leg up higher, and she heard him take a breath and hold it as she reached for the knife on his ankle one more time.

"I've got it!" she gasped as her fingers found their target and pulled the small blade from its sheath. She scrambled backwards and started cutting at the rope tied around the beam just behind his head. It came free within seconds, and she pulled the loose lengths away from his throat as he took a deep, gasping breath of air.

"Get your other hand free," he ordered hoarsely, then broke into a fit of coughing. "Hurry!"

She nodded and slipped the blade between her own skin and the rope just as the sound of a woman screaming, followed by gunfire outside broke the silence. Alexis froze, hearing the walker on the other side of the barn react to the sound immediately, getting to its feet and snarling hungrily.

_"I'll kill you, you li'l bastard!"_ Caleb's voice thundered across the entire area, sounding as if it might carry straight across to the Smokey Mountains. Two more shots were fired, and Daryl looked sharply at Alexis.

"Lex," he said. "You've _got_ to hurry."

* * *

><p>"Go on, hurry!" Glenn pushed at Andrea as she landed on the ground and turned around to help Sophie climb down from the porch roof. "I'll get her, just go!" It had taken him the better part of an hour to rouse all of the women and the kids from their deep, drugged sleep, and the sky was starting to grow brighter as they finally climbed out of the window one at a time and scaled the side of the porch to the ground. Carl and Lori had gone first, followed by Jacqui and then Andrea. They stood in a tight group now, looking around in confusion.<p>

"Run to the woods," Glenn ordered as Sophie started to inch her way down, holding tightly onto Carol's hand. "Back to the cars, and lock yourselves in the RV. Go on! We can't all stand here, it's too open." He climbed onto the porch railing and reached up to catch hold of Sophie's foot, guiding it to a secure spot.

"Where's Rick?" Lori asked in a loud whisper. "Where are the others? Alexis isn't with us!"

"Rick's in the cellar with Shane, Dale and T-Dog," Glenn said. "I think Alexis is in the barn, and Daryl too. You all run for the woods, I'll get to the cellar and get the guys out, then we'll go to the barn!" Sophie closed her eyes and jumped the last few feet, and Glenn pulled her up as Carol landed beside her.

"I'm not leaving without Rick!" Lori exclaimed, but Andrea took her arm and pushed her towards the woods.

"No!" she said. "Glenn is right! Keep Carl safe, it's what Rick would want you to do. We have to go before they see us!" Lori looked at her with eyes wide, then nodded and followed Glenn's lead around the back of the cabin. He didn't dare take them all around right out in front, even though it was a straight shot to the woods and the path back to the campsite. He gestured for them all to stay low and reached back as Sophie grabbed for his hand. As they passed the kitchen window, Glenn saw Caleb, Jasper and Seth all sitting around the table. Jasper and Seth were eating the heavily-spiked stew, and Caleb was talking to both of them. Glenn felt a small smile start to creep across his face, but his heart leaped up into his throat as a fourth person caught his eye and he paused to stare as Nita tipped up her bowl and finished off the last of her own stew. _Oh God... no... oh fuckme I didn't think about her.._.

"What are you doing?" Andrea hissed at him. "Come on, move!" Glenn willed his feet to move, but dread filled his stomach and he hoped fervently that the little girl's small body wouldn't be overcome by the overdose of drugs and who knew what else he'd dumped into her food. The sun was just starting to reach its peak as they reached the narrow gate at the edge of the woods, and Glenn fumbled with the latch and swung it open, gesturing for the others to go through.

"We can't leave them here," Lori said again as she passed him, pushing Carl through the gate ahead of her, and Glenn nodded at her as reassuringly as he could.

"We won't." She looked back at the cabin again, then hurried to catch up to the others.

Glenn waited until they were out of sight, then turned to look back at the cabin. They were all inside, and until the effects of the drugs started to kick in, he had no hope of getting to Rick and the others by himself. But he could get to the barn, and as far as he knew Daryl and Alexis were alone in there. He had no idea if they were alive, or why Caleb had chosen to separate them from the rest, but having the two of them with him would greatly increase the odds. Mind made up, he started towards the barn, but froze in place when the cabin's front door was suddenly and loudly kicked open, and an enraged Caleb strode out onto the front porch with a shotgun held in both hands. He fired it into the air once, his face contorted with rage. Glenn could hear Kinta wailing inside the house, and his heart sank as he realized what must be happening.

"You!" Caleb shouted, and leaped off the porch, coming straight at Glenn. "What did you do? What did you do to my family!" Jasper appeared behind him,stumbling and falling onto his knees on the porch. Glenn watched as he crawled to the edge of the porch and collapsed into a heap, lying terribly still. Kinta came out of the cabin and ran to him, clutching Nita in her arms and screaming wordlessly.

"You killed them," Caleb growled. "You killed them all."

"I didn't mean to," Glenn could barely speak, his heart was pounding so hard the blood was screaming in his ears. "No! I didn't mean to!"

"I'll kill you, you li'l bastard!" Caleb fired the shotgun at him, and Glenn stumbled backwards, almost falling, then started to run. He barely heard the second shot over the sound of his own loud, desperate breathing as he crashed through the gate and into the woods beyond.

* * *

><p>"My God," Rick looked up at the ceiling over his head as the sound of gunshots came from somewhere outside. He'd woken up several hours ago, just after the Wallace brothers had dragged T-Dog inside.<p>

They'd dragged Rick out of bed quickly and efficiently without even waking Lori, and he'd been too confused and groggy to put up much of a fight. Each time they'd opened the door to throw someone else in with him he'd been too weak to do anything in the way of getting out. Shane had fought harder against his captors than any of them, and had sustained the worst beating, but he was awake now, as were Dale and T-Dog.

"What the hell is going on up there?" Shane stood up, one hand gripping his side. The right side of his face was bruised and battered, but he was alert and more than ready to do something. The cellar was small and very confined, with barely enough room for all four of them to spend a night comfortably. But their assailants were clearly not concerned with their comfort. It hadn't taken them all long to figure out they'd been drugged somehow, but that was all they'd figured out.

T-Dog was pounding on the small door at the top of the narrow stairs now, and started slamming his shoulder against it as a second and then third gunshot sounded from outside. A woman was screaming, and Rick felt sick to his stomach as he thought it might be Lori.

"What are they doing to them?" Dale wondered aloud. "Jesus, Rick what the hell are they _doing?_"

They heard footsteps now, running across the floor over their heads, and T-Dog abruptly stopped trying to break the door down as somebody on the other side started to unlock it. He glanced back at Rick, and Rick nodded once at him and moved up the stairs behind him, them past him.

"Be ready," he said. "We'll only have one chance." The door was yanked open suddenly, and Rick found himself staring at the barrel of his own .45 revolver. Kinta's eyes locked on his across the gun, and her face was streaked with tears. Rick saw desperation in her expression and stood as still as he could.

"You're a cop," she said. "Right? Cops are s'posed to help people. You hav'ta help my daughter."

"Your daughter?" Rick echoed. "What about my son? And my wife? What about our friends?"

"Your wife 'n kid got away," she said darkly. "And the rest of the women, too. That little Chinese bastard got 'em out, but not 'fore he poisoned my baby. She's _dyin'_ an you're gonna help her, or I'll kill you myself."

_Poisoned? Glenn?_ Rick stared at her, and she cocked the pistol threateningly. He glanced back at Shane, who frowned and shrugged. If she was dying, she needed a doctor, not a couple of Sheriff's Deputies from Kentucky.

"Where is she?" he finally said, and Kinta stepped back to let him come up out of the basement. She gestured towards the main room of the cabin and stood back until Shane came up out of the basement, then T-Dog and Dale. Shane glanced at her, thinking he could tackle her if her attention was diverted, but when he came into the room and saw Rick kneeling next to Nita lying very still on the floor, he knew tackling wasn't going to be necessary.

Dale came forward and knelt on her other side, and Shane glanced at T-Dog, nodding once at him and edging his way around to make sure Kinta didn't get between them and the front door.

"What poisoned her?" Rick asked, and Kinta hesitated, then stepped forward and handed him an empty pill bottle.

"I found this on the floor," she said. "Can you help her?" Her tone was less demanding now, and she lowered the gun and glanced over at Shane. "My boy Seth is in the kitchen," she said. "I thought he was dead, too, but he ain't. Jasper neither. Please help her, I didn' want none of this to happen."

"It's allergy medicine," Dale said to Rick, and lifted Nita's eyelids to look at her pupils. Her breathing was very shallow and she was pale, but otherwise he couldn't think of anything else to do. "Lex was taking it. It's not lethal to an adult, but we have no way of knowing how much she's had."

"Hey," said Shane. "I understand that y'all want to help, but we've got to go _now_. Where's that other one, whatshisname? Caleb."

"He's gone crazy," Kinta said. "He got it in his head that your friend, the one with the crossbow, is his dead son Josh."

"Daryl?" T-Dog looked puzzled. "I don't get it. What's that got to do with us being drugged and locked in the basement?"

"He wants Daryl to stay here with us, and the rest'a you..." she stopped and looked around at them, realizing there was a lot they didn't know. "Just help her. Do _somethin'_ fore he comes back an' kills you all."

"Are there any emergency first aid supplies here?" Dale asked her. "Snakebite kits, that sort of thing?" Kinta nodded, and pointed to a desk in the corner. Dale got up and started digging in the drawers, and Shane took advantage of the distraction to grab the gun away from Kinta. She didn't react, not seeming to care anymore.

"Where is Caleb now?" Shane asked her. Dale found what he was looking for and hurried back over to Nita, handing a small bottle to Rick. He looked at the bottle and nodded as Dale opened the girl's mouth and tilted her head back.

"I don't know," Kinta watched as Rick poured half the bottle's contents down Nita's throat. "He ran off to shoot that chinaman dead. What are you doing to her?"

"It's syrup of ipecac," Rick said. "If she hasn't already digested everything it might help."

"Where's Daryl?" Dale looked up at Kinta. "And where are our weapons?"

"He's in the barn," she said, and sank to her knees, suddenly looking completely defeated. "The guns are in the shed out back."

"Let's go," Shane said to T-Dog.

* * *

><p>Alexis sliced through the last length of rope around Daryl's wrists and he jerked them free. He pulled off the cut pieces and flung them away as he scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could with muscles stiff and sore from sitting up so straight all night. Alexis suddenly shrieked behind him, and he spun to see her stumble and fall backwards as the walker lunged forward, almost grabbing hold of her.<p>

"This is _unbelievable!_" Alexis stared at the walker less than three feet away from her, choking itself and not caring as it continued trying to grab her. Daryl came forward and put his hands under her arms to haul her to her feet. "Jesus, what is _with_ these deranged people? I thought the ones in Atlanta were bad enough!"

"Talk 'bout it later," he said roughly and started to pull her towards the door. All he wanted right now was to get his hands on Caleb, and when he was done with him he'd come back and put an arrow through that _thing's_ head. The door swung open before they reached it, and Daryl immediately backed up, bumping into Alexis and pushing her back with him.

Caleb stood there, his face red and almost unrecognizable. They all stood in silence for a moment, then he raised the shotgun and started advancing towards them. His expression was that of a madman, which he clearly was. His eyes burned into Daryl's as he came forward slowly, forcing them both to move backwards away from him.

"You," he said quietly to Daryl. "You betrayed yer family."

"I did _what?_" Daryl demanded. "_Family?_ What the _fuck_ are you talking about?"

"They're dead!" Caleb shouted. "My brother! Nita, Seth... all of them. They're _dead_ 'cause of you!"

"We've been in here all night!" Alexis shouted back. "He didn't kill anyone!" Caleb fired the shotgun at the air above her head, and she and Daryl both dropped to the floor of the barn.

"Get up," Caleb said, his voice breaking. "GET UP!" He came forward fast and Daryl hurried to stand, dragging Alexis with him. He looked around the barn quickly, looking for something, anything within reach. But the only thing close by was that walker, now in a complete frenzy of bloodlust and ravenous hunger. Daryl took another step back and realized that Caleb was driving them both towards Ruby, and they would soon be within her reach.

Daryl reached to pull Alexis closer to him, determined to keep himself between her and that shotgun. But he couldn't keep her out of Ruby's reach if they moved much further. She crowded up against him with a gasp as the walker made another grab at her. As she buried her face against his back and slipped her hand into his, Daryl right then and there decided they wouldn't be taking another step. Caleb would have to shoot him first.

"I never hurt anyone," he said flatly, trying to keep his voice calm as he looked Caleb right in the eye. "I would never hurt family. _You know that_." Caleb stopped walking towards them, and for one moment looked Daryl in the eye steadily. Alexis was silent, but Daryl could feel her starting to shake. He gripped her hand tightly and swallowed the urge to leap forward and pound Caleb to a pulp.

"This," he said, and paused to swallow again, his throat was dry and hoarse. "This isn't what you want. You said so yerself. You want me to stay, here I am. I'm still here." He watched as the rage started to slip away from Caleb's face, to be replaced with something different. The man's eyes almost literally glazed over, and he lowered the shotgun slowly. The walker continued to rage behind them, and he heard Alexis make a small sound as she glanced back at it. He couldn't see what she saw, which was the metal ring on the wall starting to pull away from the metal screws that held it there.

Suddenly they all heard voices outside, and Daryl glanced over Caleb's shoulder to see T-Dog and Shane running towards the barn. He flicked his eyes back to Caleb's quickly, but he had already seen the glance and raised the shotgun again.

"Yer a goddamned liar!" he shouted. Daryl jumped forward and grabbed the barrel of the shotgun yanking it hard to the side as Caleb fired. Alexis dove to the side as the shot sailed right over her head, and Daryl heard himself snarling like an animal as he fought Caleb for control of the weapon. Caleb started shouting obscenities at him, his eyes wild and crazed, but Daryl took one hand off the shotgun and punched him squarely in the face.

"Watch out!" Alexis shouted, and Daryl heard the snarl of the walker practically in his ear. He got both hands back on the gun and pulled it sideways, but Caleb hung on with a deathgrip. Too late, he realized that Daryl had swung him around completely and as his hands slipped off the gun his own momentum carried him straight backwards into Ruby's waiting arms. He screamed and managed to slip out of her grasp, then ran forward to grab hold of Alexis as she scrambled to get away from him. She clawed at his face, leaving deep cuts with her nails, but he grabbed her by the hair and pulled, intending to drag her over to Ruby himself. Something moved quickly beside him and he looked up in time to see Daryl's fist sailing towards his face again. He went down hard, but started to get up again with an angry howl. He was on his knees when Daryl kicked him in the face, sending him flying back towards Ruby again. She was on him in an instant, and this time she didn' let go.

"Get outta the way!" Shane shouted as he came barreling through the door with shotgun raised and ready to fire. T-Dog was right behind him, carrying a shotgun in one hand and Daryl's crossbow in the other, but Daryl stopped them both with a single outstretched hand.

"Come on, man move!" Shane's eyes were fixed on the walker as it sank teeth into Caleb's neck and blood spurted in all directions.

"Hold up," said Daryl, his voice low. "She can't get to us. Let 'er finish 'im first." Shane looked completely confused, but he lowered the shotgun and came forward carefully as Daryl looked around for Alexis. She was already coming forward and he reached one arm out to pull her in to him as T-Dog handed him his crossbow.

"You guys all right?" he asked them, Alexis' face was almost pure white, but she nodded and rested her head against Daryl's shoulder. He raised his hand and gripped her hair, trying to get control of his ragged breathing. They all turned and watched as Caleb gave one last tortured cry and fell silent, but Ruby continued to tear into his flesh, making contented but greedy sounds in her throat as she swallowed chunks of him whole.

"Jesus, man that's enough," T-Dog turned away in disgust, and Shane stepped forward with his shotgun raised. Ruby looked up at him and snarled one last time, and he fired. She collapsed forward over Caleb's body, her head completely gone. Shane didn't hesitate, and put a shot in Caleb's head just as Rick and Dale came hurrying through the door.

"Where are the others?" Alexis asked them immediately, and went forward to meet Rick as he entered. "We heard shots. Was anyone hurt?"

"I don't think so," he said. "Kinta said Glenn got them out, they probably ran back to the camp." He was carrying the same duffel bag he'd brought to Atlanta with him, and he fished inside it as he spoke, then drew out a 9 millimeter police-issue handgun and handed it to Alexis.

"If we're done here, let's go. Now, before that brother of his wakes up."

They filed out the barn silently, Shane taking the lead with T-Dog, Rick and Dale following behind. Daryl stood where he was, looking down at what was left of Caleb and Ruby. Alexis waited by the door for a moment, then quietly approached him.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly, and placed one hand against his arm. He didn't react at first, just kept staring down at the scene before him with a serious frown on his face. Then he looked down at her hand on his arm, and up at her face. She looked back at him steadily, not able to read his thoughts. But she found she didn't have to when he suddenly slipped his hand around the back of her neck and pressed his lips against hers. He kissed her once, long and soft, and let his hand move up through her hair until he heard her breath catch, then pulled away quickly to save them both the awkward moment that would follow when she pushed him away.

"Come on," he said simply, and bent to pick up Caleb's shotgun before leading the way out of the barn.

They were only about twenty yards down the path through the woods when they heard a shout up ahead, and broke into a run. Just around the south bend, they came across the others. Rick and Shane were kneeling on the ground next to a still form, and Dale stood behind them, looking over their shoulders and blocking the view as the approached.

"What is it?" Alexis asked T-Dog as Daryl came huffing up behind her.

"It's Glenn," said T-Dog. "He's been shot."

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Kansas, _Carry On Wayward Son  
><em>


	23. No Rest for the Weary

_Headin' in or headin' out _  
><em> Standing on the shore <em>  
><em> Pause a moment to reflect <em>_which trip costs you more _  
><em> Between the ever restless crowds <em>_and the silence of your room _  
><em> Spend an hour in no man's land <em>  
><em> You'll be leaving soon <em>

_ Victims come and victims go _  
><em> There's always lots to spare <em>  
><em> One victim lives the tragedy, o<em>_ne victim stops to stare _  
><em> And still another walks on by <em>_pretending not to see _  
><em> They're all out there in no man's land <em>  
><em> 'Cause it's the safest place to be <em>  
><em> But sanctuary never comes <em>_without some kind of risk _  
><em> Illusions without freedom <em>

_ Never quite add up to bliss _  
><em> The haunting and the haunted <em>  
><em> Play a game no one can win <em>  
><em> The spirits come at midnight <em>  
><em> And by dawn they're gone again<em>

_And so it seems our destiny __to search and never rest _  
><em> To ride that ever changing wave <em>_that never seems to crest _  
><em> To shiver in the darkest night, a<em>_fraid to make a stand _  
><em> And then go back and do our time <em>  
><em> Out there in no man's land<em>

* * *

><p><strong>No Rest for the Weary<strong>

"It's not too deep," Rick said, "Just clipped his arm. But he's lost a lot of blood." Shane had pulled off his belt and used it as a tourniquet on Glenn's left arm, and the rest of them gathered around anxiously. Glenn had landed face-down on the path, after apparently managing to run several hundred yards into the woods. Rick knew that if Caleb had chosen to chase him he'd have caught him with no effort and no doubt killed him on the spot. He also was very aware that if Glenn had gone off the path by even a few feet, they might never have seen him.

"Come on, grab him," T-Dog urged them all. "We're still too close to crazy town. Let's go!"

Nobody argued, and Rick called to Daryl to watch behind as Shane took the lead, and he and Dale pulled Glenn up between them. Alexis snatched Glenn's hat up off the ground, and the group made their way through the woods as quickly as they could without further discussion or conversation. Andrea met them at the edge of the woods, armed only with a baseball bat but still watching the area anxiously and waiting for the rest to return. Her eyes widened at the sight of Glenn, pale and hanging limply between Dale and Rick, but she didn't ask any questions.

"Get him to the RV," Rick said to Dale, and Alexis ran forward to take Rick's place as he hurried forward to the campsite.

"Dad!" Carl's voice carried to them all, and Alexis breathed a sigh of relief as everyone was suddenly together again. Both sides started asking questions immediately, but the sight of Glenn shocked all into silence, and Jacqui all but burst into tears when she saw him.

"He saved our lives," she kept repeating as Dale and Alexis maneuvered him inside the RV.

"Listen, everybody," Rick called. "I want us out of here now, but we still have the gas problem. T-Dog, I need you to siphon the gas from the station wagon. Daryl, make sure your truck is full, and fill the other two vehicles from the backups. Shane, watch the woods. Lori and Andrea, make sure everything is out of the wagon and leave what we can't fit in the other vehicles."

"Ain't gonna be enough," Daryl approached Rick as everyone moved to their tasks. "We might get to the CDC, but that could be the end of the line."

"I know," said Rick. His eyes were bloodshot, but wide and looking around in all directions as he spoke. "Right now I just want us out of these woods, we'll stop as soon as we're clear and get a better plan together." He looked pointedly at Merle's motorcycle, still strapped to the back of Daryl's truck.

"You might want to rethink that before we get too far," he said. "That's a lot of extra weight, and your truck's burning oil as it is." The look Daryl gave him could have frozen molten lava as he walked away to see to the gas distribution, and Rick didn't bother pursuing. He had no idea what Daryl or anyone else had endured during the previous night, and there just wasn't time to deal with another Dixon outburst right now. He moved off to help empty the station wagon and decide what they could afford to leave behind.

Dale came out of the RV as everyone was finishing up. Daryl was pouring the last of the gas from the backup cans into the tank, and looked up as he came out. Alexis exited right behind him, still looking pale and breathless. She had blood on her hands all the way up both forearms, some of it her own as well as Glenn's, and Dale had more than enough on his own clothes. Rick hurried over to them both, the question unspoken but obvious in her eyes.

"We got the bleeding stopped," Dale reported, and everyone else looked up from whatever they were doing. "It could have been a lot worse, but he's very weak. The shot's not too bad, in a hospital with proper care, he'd probably walk out on his own in a day, but..."

"But we don't have a hospital," Rick finished. "So his best bet is the CDC, where there might be people who can help him."

"Exactly," said Dale. Alexis walked away from them to the riverbank just a short distance away. Rick noted the paleness of her face and numb expression, then glanced around at everyone else and saw they all worse similar expressions. _We're hanging on the ragged edge, _he thought. If the _CDC is a dead end... I don't know what we'll do._

"Let's get moving," he said. "On the road in five minutes, everyone." he waved at Shane to join the group again, and Daryl tossed the empty gas can into the RV's rear storage as he glanced back at Lex, crouched next to the river and washing the blood from her hands. He looked around at the rest of the group for a second, then walked over towards her.

"Hey," his voice made Alexis jump almost out of her skin, she hadn't heard him approaching.

"Jesus, Dixon," she said. "You've _got_ to stop sneaking up on me like that. Bad enough to almost get eaten by a crazy man's pet walker, but I don't need a heart attack to take me down." She was talking fast as she splashed the water up her arms, rubbing and scratching at her skin.

"I sneak up on everybody," he said, and frowned as she kept on washing, her movements fast and shaky. She was talking to herself, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. "We're leavin' in a few minutes. What's th'matter with you? You freakin' out?" Daryl stood awkwardly as she continued to mutter and splash, not sure what was happening.

"Yes," she said abruptly, and scooped up a double handful of water to splash on her face, then another. She was practically soaked now. "Yes, I'm freaking out. I'm _completely_ freaking the fuck out."

She shook the water from her hands, then wiped them on her dirt-streaked clothing and stood up shakily. Her thoughts had been spinning wildly out of control from the moment Caleb had fired the first shot over her head, and she'd barely had a moment to stop and sort things out. She couldn't shake the memory of his eyes, completely detached from reality and any sense of himself whatsoever. Then the sight of Glenn, looking even smaller than he normally did, bleeding and possibly dying was added to the chaos, and she pressed the heels of her hands to eyes for a moment, willing the images to go away. _Just go away. Stop. I'm only human, and I can't take anymore. _She felt hands touch her, and slapped them away, retreating from the unfamiliar and overwhelming emotions that welled up inside. There were voices speaking around her, one of them was Daryl's, but a second and then a third had joined in, and she felt surrounded.

"She's in shock, y'all," said Shane. Dale and Daryl were trying to approach her, but she backed away from them both, and as Shane added himself to the mix she shoved their hands away and abruptly hurried away from them, heading for the circle of cars. They watched as she went straight to Daryl's truck, holding up a warning hand to Rick as he tried to approach her. She fought with the passenger side door handle for a moment, which chose that particular moment to stick, but the door finally opened and she climbed inside, slamming it behind her.

"Shitballs," Daryl said out loud. "She goin' crazy?"

"No," Dale sighed. "Shane's right, she's in shock. I suppose we all are."

"So what do we do?" Daryl felt completely helpless, and he didn't like it one bit.

"We get the hell outta here and worry about the details later," Shane said. It seemed like the smartest thing anyone had said in days, and as everyone headed for a vehicle, Dale stopped Daryl and handed him a small blanket from inside the RV.

"She'll be cold," he explained simply, and when Daryl climbed into the driver's side of the truck, she was indeed shivering like a leaf. But she was also crying, her knees drawn up to her chest again. She was sitting just like she used to back when they'd first hit the road and she was too scared to do anything else. She jumped slightly when he pulled the door shut, and he sat looking at her for a moment as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hands. Emotional females were the only creatures in existence that Daryl would admit to being afraid of, and on the rare occasion he'd found himself in the presence of one he'd never stuck around long enough to figure out how to deal with the situation.

Her dark hair was wet from the river and strands hung around her face, so he did the only thing he could think of, and reached out to brush them back away from her eyes. She immediately flinched and pulled away from his touch, and he silently cursed his mistake. But she made no sound when he quickly draped Dale's blanket around her and started the engine.

Dale led the way out in the RV with Andrea in the passenger seat, and Jacqui rode in the back with Glenn. Behind them Rick drove the battered-looking but sturdy Cherokee with Lori and Carl. They left behind the station wagon that had once belonged to Ed Pelletier, Carol and Sophie riding with T-Dog. Shane followed Daryl's old pickup, bringing up the rear as always, and within less than an hour they were out of the park and headed for a rest stop they had passed on the way up the day before.

* * *

><p>The day had grown warm by the time they reached the rest stop, but it was cloudy and the heavy heat of summer seemed to have disappeared overnight, making the air almost breathable. Shane backed his Jeep around so they could get at the two ten-gallon containers they'd painstakingly filled with water boiled and made safe for drinking before leaving the quarry outside Atlanta. They had almost no food, but nobody's stomach seemed ready for a meal anyway, aside from Carl and Sophie, so everyone else focused on re-hydrating themselves after the bizarre ordeal. Glenn was awake by then, and Dale brought him water and spent some time assuring him that the little girl Nita hadn't died, although he did say it was remarkable that such a small child could throw up so much.<p>

Rick looked at everyone as they gathered together, leaning or sitting on fenders, or on the ground. Exhaustion showed clearly in all their faces, but he was particularly concerned that whatever Daryl and Alexis has experienced had left some permanent scar. Daryl looked as moody as ever, but he was quieter and hadn't resumed his usual restless pacing once since rejoining the group. Instead he was uncharacteristically still, looking off into the distance as the rest gathered around.

Alexis emerged from the truck silently, holding a thin blanket around herself and avoiding eye contact with anyone. She seemed almost embarrassed about her loss of control, but Rick couldn't imagine how any of them had made it this far without blowing a gasket or two. Carol approached her as she took a seat on the ground, and started fussing over the wounds on her wrists. She didn't seem to want to be touched by anyone, and pulled away from her at first, shaking her head until Carol's motherly manner finally won her over. She sat quietly, letting her dress the shallow cuts and wrap them in strips of gauze from a first aid kit Daryl pulled from the truck.

"Listen everyone," Rick addressed the group, and fell silent for a moment as all eyes turned to him. "We're all in strung-out shape, I know that. It was my idea to make this trip... I know that, too. But bringing y'all right into danger like I did back there... well, I got no excuse for that. It was a bad call, and I'm sorry."

"Ain't your fault the world ended," Shane said. "And it surely ain't your fault that we camped right in the Manson family's back yard."

"Maybe not," Rick said, and nodded once at Daryl. "But you go right ahead and keep educating us about bears anytime you want. The way I see it, if we'd listened to you none of that would've happened."

"An' maybe those crazy sumbitches would'a just come into camp and killed us in our sleep," Daryl suggested, and Alexis shivered again.

"I don't understand any of it," Carol said. "Are we the only sane people left in the world? It doesn't matter _who_ is to blame, but what if we get to the CDC and find people there who are just as bad?" Alexis looked up at Rick as Carol spoke, and he realized everyone was looking to him for reassurance that they had nothing to fear.

"It's possible," Shane said, and Rick nodded.

"I guess it is, but we can't keep running forever. Those people back there, well... I'll bet there was a lot that wasn't right about them long before all this happened."

"You don't know that," said Andrea. "None of us know how anyone else has survived as long as we have. We've never been in a war, or lived in a part of the world where survival is more about luck than anything else. Sure, we've all seen it on TV but we've never _lived_ it. And now it's here, maybe everywhere. We have no idea what people are capable of now."

"I think it's safe to say that people are capable of anything now," Lori said. "But we've got to get help for Glenn, too. There might be doctors at the CDC, or at least people with more than basic first aid skills."

"How is he?" Rick asked Dale, who was coincidentally exiting the RV at that very moment.

"See for yourselves," Dale smiled, and turned around to give Glenn a hand as he gingerly stepped outside. There was a general intake of breath from everyone, and Sophie even ran forward to hug him.

"Ow," said Glenn, but hugged her back with his one good arm. The other was held in place by a sling they'd fashioned from a ripped pillowcase, and he was still pale and drawn. But he smiled at the group and seemed to be doing a head count to make sure everyone was there.

"Damn," T-Dog grinned. "Never thought I'd be so glad to see you, runt."

"Thanks, I think." Glenn winced and sat down carefully on a chair Dale hurriedly unfolded for him. "What did I miss? Any more crazy hillbillies?"

"You have no idea," Shane said. Rick unfolded the map and they both sat down on the ground in front of him. Daryl joined them, but remained standing as he watched them trace a new route out on the map. It was almost a familiar ritual by now, and after only a short time they had a plan in place.

"Oh for crying out loud," T-Dog suddenly groaned. "Walkers, people." Everyone stood up and looked at where he was pointing, and sure enough there were four of them coming towards them from the road. They were having some difficulty with the guard rail, but their appearance alone was enough to get everyone moving again.

"Don't even bother," Rick said to Daryl as he lifted a shotgun. "Let's just go." Everyone hurried to their vehicles, and Daryl shocked the hell out of Glenn by offering him a hand up when he struggled to stand.

"You're pretty tough for a chinaman," he commented.

"I'm _Korean_," Glenn sighed, and Daryl shrugged.

"I know," he said, and headed towards his truck.

They were back out on the road in moments, and after drinking a full bottle of the flat, tasteless boiled water Alexis was starting to feel human again, and the chaos in her head was finally quieting.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly after they'd been driving in silence for nearly an hour. Daryl glanced at her, but she was still sitting in the same hunched-up lump, looking out the window.

"For what?"

"For losing it back there. It just seems like we never get a break, and just I'm so_ tired_."

_Me too,_ Daryl didn't voice the thought, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept - really slept longer than an hour or so.

"Grimes thinks we'll spend one more night on the road 'fore we get to the CDC," he said. "You sleep tonight, don't want you taking any watch. An' you can freak the fuck out any time you want. At long as you don't shoot at things when you do."

"Does that help?" she asked, and he leaned forward slightly, looking up ahead as the others pulled to the right to avoid a walker that was standing in the middle of the road, transfixed by the vehicles passing by.

"What?"

"Shooting things," she repeated. "Does it help?"

"Yeah," Daryl admitted. "Sometimes it does. But this does too." He pushed the accelerator down and steered straight towards the walker, then swung the door open and slammed the walker in the face. He closed it again quickly, and Shane honked his horn angrily at him as the Jeep swerved to avoid the falling corpse.

"That shouldn't be funny," Alexis said.

The small caravan retraced its route for a short time, but turned off the highway before reaching one of the areas too congested with cars to make passing possible. It was a last shot at reaching Atlanta safely, a smaller route that had once been a major route before four-lane highways became more popular in the South. At first it appeared that they would run into the same barriers as before, and there were more than a few tense moments as they made their way around abandoned vehicles. At one point they had slowed almost to a stop, giving a group of walkers the opportunity to crowd around them, and everyone was suddenly rolling up windows and locking doors. But they made it through with little more than a few frightening moments, and by the time the sun hung low in the sky they came upon a single house sitting in the middle of a wide-open field. Dale stopped the RV partway down the long driveway and opened his window as Rick came jogging up to speak to him.

"What do you think?" he asked him, and Dale shrugged.

"It looks empty from here," he said tiredly. "But as we all know, looks don't mean a whole lot now."

Rick couldn't agree more, and decided to check it out with Shane first. Daryl pulled his truck up to the side and got out with a determined look on his face. There was no way her was going to wait for them to decide it was safe, not this time and maybe not ever again.

"Keep that handy," he said to Alexis, and gestured at the gun Rick had given her on the seat. "An' feel free to shoot things if you have to."

Despite the over-thoroughness of their search, the house turned up no surprises whatsoever. This of course made Daryl even more suspicious, and they went through it twice from attic to basement, leaving no closet unsearched and not a single corner missed. Rick even looked under the beds, although he couldn't imagine that any walker would be clever enough to hide there. It was a large farmhouse-style dwelling that was very typical of the area, and boasted three bedrooms as well as a guest space built in the attic. The large living room was adjacent to a smaller room that appeared to have been used as a home office, and there was a spacious kitchen and a formal dining room. It also had three bathrooms, which mattered not even the slightest since there was no running water or working plumbing of any kind.

Rick felt that the house was empty in so many other ways as he observed the family photos on the walls, kids' drawings stuck to the fridge with magnets, and other personal touches that proved there was once life and happiness here.

"What do you think?" He asked Daryl after finding him standing alone, looking out of the dining room window at the wide open yard in the back.

"Well," Daryl said thoughtfully. "I'm pretty sure there aren't any bears around here."

It was almost dark by the time everyone else gathered inside, and with no food to speak of there was nothing to do but figure out where everyone would sleep and who would take first watch. Daryl immediately said he would, but Rick and Shane both argued against it. He was the only one out of the group who literally hadn't slept in days, and the effects were starting to show on him, not only in the form of his usual short temper. Predictably, Daryl didn't like being told to go to bed, and more importantly still did not like the idea of putting trust in others to watch his back while he slept. It was Lori who finally diffused the situation by suggesting that Daryl take last watch, which would at least give him a few hours' rest, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he angrily stormed off to the small home office to take the couch for himself.

Sophie flat-out refused to sleep in the attic, so she and Carol took one of the smaller bedrooms with a double bed for themselves. Andrea, Jacqui and Alexis took the larger one that had a set of bunk beds and one single bed that had clearly belonged to boys. Nobody argued when Glenn was given the master bedroom, and the Grimes family moved up to the attic guest room. T-Dog and Shane took first watch, while Dale discovered that the two large sofas in the living room were more than comfortable when compared to the narrow beds in the RV.

The roller coaster ride of stress, fear, jumbled emotions and confusion that all had ridden over the last few days did not disappear with sleep, but the silence through the house was almost a blessing to Daryl. He lay awake on the couch longer than the others, one hand behind the cushion under his head and staring up at the ceiling in the dark as he tried to sort through the jumble of thoughts that had plagued him for months. Finally, he could not fight off sleep any longer and drifted into a weird dream in which he and Merle were fishing and catching nothing but decaying body parts. They threw them all back until they found hands, and Merle kept each one, lining them up on the ground in order by size.

A small sound in the room snapped Daryl out of the dream and back to wakefulness instantly, and he sat straight up, startling Alexis as she stood just inside the doorway with a blanket wrapped around herself. He looked around the room quickly, then back at her, and shook his head.

"Now who's sneakin' up on people?" he whispered. "Yer not sleepin'. You said you would."

"Andrea cries in her sleep," she said quietly, and stood where she was for a few moments. He couldn't see her face in the darkness, and a dim light from the single candle burning in the living room beyond silhouetted her from behind. She didn't say another word, just stood there looking at him until he started to wonder if she was actually sleepwalking.

Finally she came forward to settle herself down next to him on the couch as he moved over as much as he could. The space was tight, and he was hesitant to touch her and freak her out again, but she didn't seem to mind when he slipped an arm around her so she could rest her head in the space between his shoulder and neck. She moved once more to pull the blanket over them both and within minutes she was sleeping. Daryl lay awake for a little while longer, listening to the sound of her breathing and brushing his fingers over the gauze bandage around her wrist and up the back of her hand resting lightly on his chest. He found he didn't have the energy to fight sleep when it pushed at him again, and this time he didn't dream.

When Shane came into the room to wake Daryl for the last watch, he found them both sound asleep and completely entwined beneath the blanket. He stood looking at them for a moment, then quietly left the room to take the last watch by himself.

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Bob Seger, _No Man's Land  
><em>


	24. End of the Road

_You blink and you miss a beat_  
><em>keep one of your eyes open at all times<em>  
><em>You think that your on the brink<em>  
><em>the shit hasn't even begun to hit the fan<em>  
><em>The consequence you'll see will be stranger than a gang of drunken mimes<em>  
><em>The situation has a stink better clear the air before your son becomes a man<em>  
><em>We all want something we know we can not have<em>  
><em>You think everything's been augmented that you have been left so far behind<em>  
><em>I think for sure next time you should wear a pair of eyes in the back of your head<em>  
><em>The consequence you've seen has been stranger than sci-fi of any kind<em>  
><em>The situation baffles me<em>  
><em>I guess its true you too are one of the walking dead<em>  
><em>Better think fast<em>  
><em>you never know what's coming round the bend<em>  
><em>You better not blink the consequence is a bigger word than you think<em>  
><em>Its bigger than you or me, You or me, You or me<em>  
><em>Better think fast, fast, cuz you never know what's coming round the bend<em>  
><em>You better not blink, consequence is a bigger word than you think<em>  
><em>Its bigger than you or me<em>

* * *

><p><strong>End of the Road<strong>

With morning came the arrival of daylight, but not sun. The cloudiness of the day before had carried over throughout the night, and by morning the clouds had only grown heavier. Shane sat alone on the front porch of the old house that had provided the group with shelter and safety for at least one night, his shotgun resting across his lap as he looked across the field at the road below. He'd let everyone sleep through the end of the night, if for nothing else than to have some peace and quiet for himself.

The events of the previous day had left him thoroughly drained and exhausted, and he imagined everyone else was in a similar frame of mind, but the notion of sleep had barely even occurred to him. Not only because he was hungry enough to eat a horse, but because he'd recently lost the ability to stop the thoughts from tumbling around inside his brain long enough for even a few hours of sleep. Worse, none of it made any real sense when everything was roaring around inside the walls of his mind all at the same time. All he could do was sit in the antique rocking chair that would eventually rot away like everything else around it and try not to think about the fact that Lori was upstairs asleep with her husband and his best friend by her side.

Unfortunately, trying _not_ to think about something guaranteed it would always be foremost among all other thoughts. It was easier when they were on the move and survival depended on staying alert and aware of what was happening all around. But here and now in the earliest part of the day, it was the one thing he couldn't stop thinking about. When he'd found Daryl and Alexis asleep in each other's arms the night before, he'd barely even seen them. It was Rick and Lori sleeping there on the couch. Rick and Lori upstairs asleep with Carl. Rick and Lori ahead of him on the road. Everywhere he'd go and everywhere he'd look from now on, it would be Rick and Lori. The more he thought about it, the more he was starting to feel that it wasn't the way things should be. And he hated himself for that.

A faint creak in the floorboards behind him caught his attention, and he looked up as Alexis stepped out onto the porch. She was barefoot and wearing an over-sized man's shirt that he guessed she'd found somewhere inside the house, and again wrapped in the blanket from Dale's RV. Shane looked back out across the field as she crossed the porch to the railing and stood looking in the same direction. Neither spoke for a few moments, and Shane abruptly remembered the less-than-civil way he'd spoken to her just before the spiked cider had knocked him senseless the other night.

"Would you believe I'm sorry?" He said finally, guessing she'd come out here either for an apology or to otherwise clear the air.

"I might," she said without turning around. "If you actually said it."

"Well, I am. Ain't nobody's business but yours and Daryl's, whatever y'all got between you. I had no right to talk to you like that."

"No, you didn't," she agreed. "But I guess people just have to have something to speculate on, don't they?"

"Maybe. But the way I see it, nobody has to explain themselves to anyone else. I mean, you can't help it if you care about someone, it just happens. It's not something you can always control, or stop. Even if you _wanted_ it to stop." Alexis had turned around to face him as he spoke, leaning back against the railing and watching his face with a frown.

"The way I see it," he continued, not even really sure where the words were coming from. "Daryl Dixon is the same as every other troublemaker I ever slapped cuffs on and put in the back of a cruiser. But maybe now things are different. Maybe now he's one of the last living people I know in this world, and so are you. And maybe that takes away my right to have any opinion at all about who anyone chooses for friends. Anyway... I'm sorry." Alexis nodded slowly, still frowning thoughtfully. She waited until she was sure he had made his point before speaking again.

"Apology accepted," she said. "But the way_ I_ see it, you look at Daryl and you only see someone you might have arrested more than once. What you _don't_ see is that you're more alike you than you care to admit. All that really separates you now is the fact that you still think you're wearing a badge. He probably wouldn't have respected you for that before, but he'll respect you even less if you keep wearing it now."

"Is that right?" Shane raised an eyebrow, then found he had to smile at her audacity. "Do you think I give a damn if Daryl Dixon respects me or not?"

"No, I don't," she sighed. "Which is something else you both have in common. Maybe you can both find a way to dislike each other in peace instead of standing around pissing on each others' feet every chance you get. Just remember, he's taken the same risks as everyone else, and lost everything, just like everyone else. He's got nothing but that old truck and a change of clothes in the back seat... just like you."

She shook her head and went back inside the house when Shane didn't reply. The sounds of others waking up inside filtered out into the morning air, but he stayed where he was, thinking that Daryl Dixon had at least one thing that he didn't have. And that was the one thing that bothered him the most.

* * *

><p>Everyone was awake or in the process of waking up when Alexis returned to the house, and she saw Glenn and Rick sitting in the kitchen with the ever-present road map spread out between them. The sight made her feel tired again, and she wondered if there would ever be a time when she wasn't figuring out where to go next. Dale appeared to stand behind Glenn, leaning over to point at a spot on the map, and Lori was searching through the kitchen cupboards with Carol.<p>

_Are we looting?_ Alexis thought with a pang of guilt as she looked down at the shirt she'd "borrowed" from the closet in the master bedroom. The previous owner was long dead by now, she supposed. But she imagined it would be some time before she stopped looking at everyday items and wondering who they had belonged to before. She realized she was walking around with no pants on, although the blanket covered her well enough, and also realized that nobody seemed to care. Four months ago she wouldn't have let anyone see her until clothes, hair and makeup were completely applied. _What's makeup?_ She went into the boys' bedroom where she'd tried to sleep the night before and collected her own clothes, dressing quickly so she could join the others. When she came back out she saw Daryl sitting on the couch with one boot in his hand and a dazed, sleepy expression.

"Nobody woke me for watch," he grumbled as she came into the room and started folding the blanket they'd huddled under during the night.

"Maybe they thought you needed your beauty sleep," she suggested, noting that a little extra sleep had done nothing for the ever-present scowl on his face.

"It's gonna take a lot more than that," he commented, and she raised one eyebrow at him and sat in the small desk chair next tot he door.

"Wow," she said. "Keep it up and you might convince me that you have a sense of humor. Next thing you know, there might even be a smile."

"Don't hold your breath," he rubbed one eye with a finger and looked up at her, then gave her half a smile anyway. She noticed then that the red marks on his throat from the rope had grown dark and ugly overnight. He had marks that almost matched the ones on her own wrists, aside from the fact that they hadn't bled, and a nasty bruise on his left temple and cheekbone. She figured they both looked like they had been wrung out and hung up to dry. He seemed unaware of her scrutiny as he pulled on one boot and then reached for the other, and spent a few minutes dealing with a knot in one of the laces.

"What happens if we get to the CDC and there's nobody there?" she wondered aloud. "Or worse, everyone there is just as crazy as Caleb and his weird family?"

"Then I guess we'll leave," he said quietly. He slipped on the second boot, tied it and stood up slowly, wincing slightly as sore muscled pulled in protest.

"And go where? Back to the quarry?"

"I dunno," he said, and looked at her as she turned her head to look out the window. "We don't _have_ to go to the CDC, you know. I think it's a bad idea anyway, but I ain't got a better one."

"Neither do I," she sighed and stood up, stepped closer and raised one hand to the marks on his neck. "I guess it's as good as any other right now. Maybe anywhere else would just mean more people with ugly secrets hiding in the closet. Or the barn."

"Everybody has ugly secrets," Daryl stood still as she touched one of the marks on his neck carefully. She smiled at him, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed that her eyes were a dusky hazel green before.

"You kissed me in the barn," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry about that. You can hit me if'ya want."

Alexis frowned and opened her mouth to reply, but Dale chose that moment to appear in the doorway and announce that everyone was ready to go.

* * *

><p><strong>Center for Disease Control<strong>  
><strong>Zone 5, Atlanta<strong>

_-begin transmission-_

_Jenner here. It's been 194 days since Wildfire was declared and 63 days since the disease abruptly went global. There is no clinical progress to report. I had hopes that the samples from test subject nineteen would yield better results, but the accidental contamination in the lab resulted in the complete destruction of the last few samples. Their loss cannot be overstated. All of the others we collected came from dead tissue, useless necrotic flesh already in advanced stages of decomposition. Test subject nineteen provided the only real hope we've had in months. _

_I haven't been sleeping... can't tell if it's night or day anymore... the accident in the lab was my fault, but I'm not even sure if that matters any longer. I doubt anyone is getting these messages anyway.  
><em>

_I think I'm going to blow my brains out tonight. I haven't decided. But first, I'm going to get drunk.  
><em>

_Jenner, signing off._

_-end transmission-_

Doctor Edward Jenner sat back in his chair, looking at the now-black computer screen and taking a long, heavy gulp of red wine. The half-empty bottle sat on the desk before him, and he reached for it to take a better look at the label. It was the 1996 _Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac_ that had sat in cool storage for as long as he'd been here at Zone 5. There was in fact a full case of it in storage, and he thought it was not without some irony that even at a cost of $300 per bottle, the dark beverage was less valuable than the on-site filter system that made the water drinkable.

Zone 5, like every other CDC location, was well-stocked and fully prepared to shelter several hundred people in relative comfort in the event of a catastrophic event. _Vi, define "catastrophic event._" Under ideal circumstances, the generators would run for years and the food supplies even longer. But circumstances were far from ideal, as it turned out. For all the brilliant minds and geniuses that walked the corridors of the complex every day, planning and preparing for the worst but never fully believing it would come, one small but very important detail had been overlooked.

As the numbers of survivors inside had rapidly thinned, Jenner soon found himself playing engineer, caretaker and custodian of the enormous complex. He familiarized himself with areas he'd never once visited before, and only a few days earlier had figured out that shutting down the areas that he himself was not using would have prolonged the inevitable by quite some time. But now, staring at a blank screen and drinking obscenely expensive imported red wine, he wasn't sure the inevitable was something anyone should ever try to avoid. _Vi, define "inevitable."_ At least it would be _something_, and after months of nothing it might even be a welcome arrival.

_End of the road._ He was out of ideas, and even with ideas he'd been far from any sort of solution. There never really was much hope to begin with, he'd never deluded himself about that. But at least the wine was good, and he no longer needed to have any more ideas.

"Vi," he said out loud. "Define _inebriated_."

_"Inebriated,"_ the female computerized voice responded to his command immediately. _"Exhilarated or stupefied by or as if by alcohol; intoxicated."_

"Excellent," Jenner sighed._  
><em>

* * *

><p>The drive back to Atlanta was much like the trip from the mountains the day before, until they reached the city limits. Alexis rode shotgun in the RV to act as a navigator of sorts, but her knowledge of the area was limited and without Glenn's expertise they were all but shooting in the dark. He helped as much as he could, but he grew dizzy and weak before long, and Alexis was left to the task of reading the maps herself, keeping in contact with Rick and Shane through the walkie-talkies.<p>

Piedmont Heights was literally swarming with walkers, just as she had said it would be. They were on the sidewalks, in the street and roaming through the park in such high numbers that the small caravan was forced to take many a detour to avoid being swamped. After several turns and one complete turnaround, Alexis was fighting frustration and ready to give up completely.

"This is ridiculous," she said. "We could move faster on foot, but we'd also be lunch."

"Right there," said Dale, pointing. "What does that sign say?"

"It's Route 410," Alexis sighed with relief and keyed the walkie-talkie. "Guys, we're turning onto 410 now. The map says the CDC is two turns up the road. We're almost there."

"It's about time," Shane came back. "I was starting to think we were goin' to pay your nursing home friends a visit first."

"And I was starting to think that might not be a bad idea," Rick added, and Dale smiled at Alexis as she rolled her eyes.

"If you all wanted to stop and ask for directions," Alexis spoke into the walkie. "All you had to do was say so."

"You know as well as I do, that would never happen," the last came from Lori, and Dale laughed out loud.

_We're almost there_, Daryl repeated in his head as Alexis' voice crackled through the walkie lying on the seat beside him. _And then what?_

The caravan turned onto the highway, and found itself looking at a wide stretch of road that was clear as far as they could see. The CDC lay outside the city's center and away from residential areas, but within the campus of a large university. Rick hoped it would have been the site of a military blockade that may have been successful at holding off the worst of the onslaught.

"Turn onto Decatur," Alexis pointed_._ "Clifton Ave is on the right about two miles up." She had the gun Rick had given her in her lap, fully loaded with one spare magazine. She checked and rechecked it again as they drew closer to their destination, and Glenn came forward to kneel between the seats.

"Maybe you won't even need it," he said hopefully. Alexis smiled tightly, but said nothing.

"There it is," Dale said quietly, and they all looked at the cheerful blue sign _CDC - Centers for Disease Control_ at the entrance to an office park. Almost immediately, it was clear that a military presence had made no difference at all in the end. Dale pulled the RV to a stop and shut off the engine, and they all sat still as the other vehicles pulled in behind.

The complex was wider than it was tall, the architecture modern and updated with high windows and a curved shape. _Safer Healthier People_ read the sign, and as the survivors exited their vehicles the irony of that statement struck them all as not even the slightest bit amusing.

"Oh my God," Jacqui said, and everyone stood alongside the vehicles, staring for a brief moment. The ground was littered with bodies as far as the eye could see. Dressed in both civilian and military wear, they lay in various stages of decomposition. Some had the appearance of having been there for months, while others appeared almost fresh. Thick clouds of fat black flies hung over everything, and as the wind shifted a horrific stench beyond description reached them.

"Come on," Rick whispered to the group. "Stay together. Shane, Lori..."

Shane was already moving forward, shotgun at the ready with T-Dog right behind him. Rick followed, Carl and Lori right behind him, and Carol followed them with a tight grip on Sophie. Dale and Andrea supported Glenn between them, and Jacqui hurried ahead to catch up with Carol, holding her scarf to her face as they advanced forward into the sea of the dead.

"Go on," Daryl said to Alexis. "Right behind you." Alexis nodded and willed her feet to move. The smell of the dead was overwhelming almost immediately, and she fought not to choke against the heavy stench as it invaded her nostrils and threatened to suffocate her. She could hear Daryl moving behind her, but focused on the building up ahead. The first body they passed barely resembled anything human at all, and Daryl found himself unable to look away from the dreadful yet oddly fascinating sight as they drew closer.

"Jesus," Alexis choked and sidestepped to avoid the body of a long-dead soldier lying in the middle of a dried-black pool of blood. Swarms of flies took flight at her quick movement, and she shuddered as they buzzed into her face and over her head.

"Don't look at 'em," Daryl said in a not-quite whisper.

"They shot themselves," she whispered back. "After they shot each other. _Look._" Daryl looked, and saw that she was right. The majority of the dead here bore large, ghastly gunshot wounds to the head. Some of them had clearly been walkers, but it was horribly obvious that most of the soldiers had executed those in civilian clothing and taken their own lives in the end.

"That's why there's no walkers in the street, everything's already dead, there's nothing to draw them." Daryl said as he drew up beside Alexis and handed her the not-quite-clean cloth he carried in his pocket. She didn't bother to examine its condition, just covered her mouth and nose.

"Come on, y'all!" Shane waved at them to hurry, speaking in only a loud whisper as he and Rick reached the entrance. Daryl turned and walked backwards as everyone gathered around the entrance, watching and waiting for what he knew had to be coming. The sun was starting to go down, and if there was no getting inside they were going to be trapped too close to the city after dark.

T-Dog stood at one side of the group, Daryl at the other, and Alexis found herself in the center position. She followed their lead and held her own gun in both hands, watching the road behind them. Rick and Shane were at the entrance, already arguing, and she felt her heart sink. _There's nobody here._

"There's nobody here, man," Shane said loudly, anxiety ringing clear in his voice.

"There has to be. Why are the shutters closed?" Rick retorted, his face suddenly white and a desperate edge in his voice. He banged loudly on the secured door, and everyone jumped as the sound echoed like gunshots into the dusky evening. "I know there's someone inside. There _has_ to be!"

Glenn stood leaning heavily on Andrea as Dale moved forward to reason with Rick. Shane's voice was rising, and the children were starting to cry as panic started to envelop them all.

"We can't stay here," said Shane. "Rick, we're too close to the city!"

"I told y'all!" Daryl was suddenly striding forward, anger erupting as he started towards Rick accusingly. "This was the wrong choice. The _wrong fuckin' choice!_"

"Shut up, Dixon!" Shane bellowed. "Just shut _up!_"

"Everybody shut up!" said T-Dog. "Jesus, you're gonna bring 'em all down on us!"

"We'll head to Fort Benning," Shane grabbed at Rick's arm. "Rick, that's our only chance!"

"That's a hundred miles away," Lori said, holding Carl tightly against her. "We've got no gas, no food... we'll never make it!"

"We'll think of something," said Rick, finally allowing Shane to pull him away from the door.

"Walkers!" Daryl suddenly shouted, and moved forward to intercept the first one as it shambled past the security booth. T-Dog and Alexis both raised their weapons, and Dale turned with his own rifle as well, but none of them fired. The fear of attracting more to their position only added to the sense of being trapped. Daryl fired one of his last few arrows, dropping the walker with one shot.

"The camera!" Rick shouted, and Alexis glanced back over her shoulder. "The camera moved. It moved!"

"No, you imagined it," said Dale. "We have to move, now!"

"Last arrow!" said Daryl, and fired at the next walker in range. There were over a dozen of them now, and the group was close to being surrounded against the building. He slung the now-useless crossbow across his back and raised the rifle in its place. "If we start shootin' now we'll have to run fast," he said, glancing sideways at Alexis and T-Dog.

"No!" Rick was almost shouting now. "No, I saw it! It _moved_. There's somebody watching us!" He ran forward to stand directly under the camera, and Daryl cursed loudly as more walkers came into view.

"I know you can hear me," Rick was saying. "I know you're in there! You have to let us in. We have children with us... we have no food, no gas and nowhere to go!_ Please,_ you have to help us"

"Go," Shane shouted at the others. "Back to the cars _now!_" He pushed Lori out of the way and started to physically drag Rick away, from the door.

"There's too many of them!" Alexis said. It was dark now, and shooting their way through would be impossible in a few minutes. Rick was screaming at the camera now, and his complete loss of control was beginning to infect everyone else. Daryl grabbed hold of her wrist and she barely noticed that his fingers were hurting her as everyone started to move towards the advancing walkers.

"You're killing us!" Rick screamed one last time before turning away under Shane's hard shoving. Sophie started to scream, high-pitched and terrified as she realized she was going to have to run through the approaching walkers. Suddenly light poured out from behind them, and everyone turned to stare as the security shutter rolled upwards with a loud rattle and came to a stop with a loud clang.

"Move it!" Shane shouted, and his sharp order jolted everyone to move again. Rick entered first with Dale right behind him. Daryl lingered the longest, entering the building only after everyone else was inside. As the automatic security shutter rolled back down and closed them all inside, he glanced back out once in time to see over two dozen walkers between them and the vehicles.

Nobody was going to be leaving tonight, that much was fact.

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Incubus, _Consequence_


	25. Safe

**A/N:** Thanks so much for your patience everyone, and for your sweet messages. All better now. Here you go you go, you hungry little devils... enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>I've an image in my pocket<em>  
><em>Of some dark demon<em>  
><em>That temptation brought to life<em>  
><em>And it chokes all of my breath out<em>  
><em>I'm scratching and screaming'<em>  
><em>'Til morning comes to night<em>

_Place your hand_  
><em>My body will decide<em>  
><em>Place your hand<em>  
><em>My anger will subside<em>

_There are fragments of possessions_  
><em>Shards of past relations<em>  
><em>Splintering my skin<em>  
><em>A fear so black and hollow<em>  
><em>It can suffocate creation<em>  
><em>And refuse to let you in<em>

_And they speak to me like prophets in my dreams_  
><em>Speak to me like prophets in my dreams<em>  
><em>Shouting like prophets in my dreams<em>

_Sometimes I think it's easy_  
><em>Too easy for the living<em>  
><em>To receive the promised land<em>  
><em>Can flesh provide the answer<em>  
><em>The reason for sensation<em>  
><em>Justify your hand<em>

_Place your hand_  
><em>My body will decide<em>  
><em>Place your hand<em>  
><em>My anger will subside<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Safe<strong>

The _clang_ of the metal security door closing behind them echoed across the large, wide open lobby, and everyone stopped right where they were until the sound had echoed away into nothing. Rick stood at the front of the group, his heart still pounding wildly and a cold sweat gathering in his palms. The lobby of the main CDC complex was dark, and a large atrium-like courtyard lay to their left. During the day, natural light would have flooded the entire entrance, but at night there seemed to be no source of light. But a keypad glowed softly at the door they'd just come through, indicating that the building had power. Rick spotted _Exit_ signs as well, and elevators across the atrium could be seen by their softly lit buttons.

"Hello?" he called after a few moments, and heard his own voice bounce back at him softly. He glanced at Shane, who stood looking into the darkness beyond the dimly-lit area. _Somebody had to open that door... unless it was on some weird kind of automated..._

"Watch it!" Daryl said sharply from his position near the door, and Rick snapped his rifle up as a figure came forward out of the shadow of a doorway. A lone man stood there, perhaps in his late forties or early fifties, dressed simply in a T-shirt, sweat pants and running shoes. But it wasn't his attire that caught Rick's attention, it was the military-issue automatic rifle that the man was pointing right at his head.

"Anybody infected?" he shouted, his voice carrying an air of authority. Rick lowered his rifle immediately, but Shane kept his up and ready to fire.

"One of our group was," Rick replied. "He didn't make it. He's gone."

"What about him? He been bitten?" The man gestured at Glenn, who was sitting on the floor against the wall, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. Fresh blood had seeped through the bandage on his arm, but he opened his eyes and shook his head in response to the question. Andrea crouched down next to him, watching their one-man welcoming committee suspiciously.

"No," Rick said quickly. "He was shot. We ran into some not-so-friendly types on the way here."

The man stepped forward so he could see Glenn more clearly, then let his eyes pass over the rest of the group. His gaze paused on Lori and Carol briefly, then the children, Sophie in particular. She was still crying, and the look of stark terror on her face held his attention for a few more seconds.

"What do you want?" he demanded, still holding the weapon in a defensive manner.

"Just a chance," said Rick simply. It seemed a ridiculous question, but he had no idea who or what this man may have encountered himself over the last few months. He studied the group again for a few moments, then slowly lowered the weapon and stepped forward.

"That's asking a lot these days," he said to Rick, and all heard the change in his tone immediately.

"I know," Rick nodded, both relieved and saddened somewhat by that simple statement.

"I'm Rick Grimes," he said, and extended a hand towards their host. He looked at Rick's hand for a moment as if unsure what to do with it, then hesitantly extended his own for the handshake.

"Doctor Edward Jenner," he replied, his eyes still on the group behind him. "You all submit to a blood test, that's the price of admission," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

"We can live with that," Rick sighed. "Can you help our friend? The wound isn't too bad, but he's lost a lot of blood." Jenner's eyes darted back to Glenn, and he nodded after a moment.

"If you folks have anything to bring inside, get it now," he said to everyone, and glanced at the watch on his wrist. "The facility locks down automatically after nine o'clock, and it won't open again."

A run to the caravan was quickly organized, and Daryl, T-Dog, Dale and Shane went back out into the night to retrieve the single "go bag" everyone kept on hand for themselves in their respective vehicles. It was a surprisingly easy task, as the walkers had almost immediately wandered away, losing interest in the area when the noise had stopped.

Back inside, Jenner led them all to a large freight elevator that was just large enough for everyone to crowd inside. Daryl handed Alexis her backpack and passed another to Carol, his eyes fixed on the back of Jenner's head as the elevator started to descend downwards.

"Doctors always go around packin' heat like that?" he asked him, suspicion clear in his voice.

"No," Jenner smiled at the group. "There were plenty left lying around, so I familiarized myself. It made sense." He looked them all over again, his eyes going straight to Glenn and then to the children.

"But you all seem harmless enough. Except _you_," he bent his head towards Carl. The boy jumped slightly and looked scared until Jenner winked at him. "I'll have to keep my eye on you." Daryl glanced at Alexis, then at everyone else. He seemed annoyed at Jenner's friendly nature, but any thoughts he might have had he kept to himself.

Jenner led them all down a long corridor that was as white and void of description as any medical facility any of them had seen. He led them to a small infirmary and let Dale and Andrea get Glenn settled into one of three narrow beds, then drew a sample of his blood and quickly checked his wound. He changed the bandage with a touch that showed much more expertise than the rest of them, and his all-business and knowledgeable treatment seemed to bring some relief to the group. The infirmary was fully stocked, and Jenner hooked Glenn to an IV to replenish lost fluids, then quickly organized the blood draws for the rest of them.

"Will he be all right?" Sophie asked him in a very small voice when it was her turn.

"He'll be fine," Jenner assured her. "Nothing that food and rest won't cure."

Sophie looked at him quickly, as if he'd said something very surprising, and he looked around at the rest of them. Andrea was sitting in a chair with her head resting on her knees as if she was dizzy, Carl was laying on the floor with his head in his mother's lap, and the rest of them were alternately leaning on walls or furniture, looking pale and exhausted. All of them, except the one who looked like he'd come straight out of the woods from a hunting trip, he continued to watch Jenner's every move with a finger on the trigger of the shotgun he held in one hand. The woman sitting on the floor next to him, whose face Jenner thought should be familiar to him, held an empty crossbow in her lap and rested her head against the wall. She looked as drained and pale as the others, and Jenner frowned as a realization slowly dawned on him.

"When was the last time you all ate anything?" he asked.

* * *

><p>"Oh my god," T-Dog groaned. "I am so glad there's no venison here."<p>

"Or squirrel," Carol added, then glanced quickly at Daryl. "No offense, but it doesn't taste anything like chicken."

Jenner sat alone at a small side table, watching as the group all but inhaled the feast they had prepared together in the complex's large cafeteria. He'd recently shut down the freezers and coolers that stored all the fresher staples in the cellar, but he'd kept one small refrigerator with an attached freezer running in the cafeteria so he wouldn't have to live on dry cereal and canned condensed milk. There were three whole chickens, several loaves of french bread, a little cheese, far too many cans of green peas, corn, black beans, some fresh carrots and potatoes and almost a full bushel of apples. None of it would have lasted much longer, so he encouraged them not to hold back.

Jenner led Rick back to to the dry storage area and the two returned with a case of imported French wine, several six packs of soda and - much to Daryl's secret delight - four full bottles of whiskey and two of Kentucky bourbon.

Everyone seemed overwhelmed by the veritable goldmine Jenner was sitting on. Carol took control of the kitchen immediately, assisted by Lori and Alexis, and within the hour the largest table in the room was heavily laden with a feast none of them had dared even imagine might ever be seen again. Glenn joined the group shortly after they'd started, not willing to accept a plate of food brought to him in bed. He was looking better already and more than ready to do his part at the table. Jenner fixed himself a plate, but sat apart from them and watched. He found that their enjoyment of the meal more than made up for everything he'd served to himself alone over the last couple of months, and barely touched his own share.

The children ate almost as ravenously as the adults, and not one complaint was uttered about having to eat their vegetables, nor did they display any other picky eating behaviors most children possessed. Carol's comment about squirrels only added to his understanding about how they had been living.

"Squirrel's good eatin," Daryl insisted, "But it don't taste much like chicken."

"Gross," said Sophie.

"_Chicken_ tastes like chicken," T-Dog said.

Jenner was surprised to learn about the wide diversity of backgrounds each member of the group hailed from. Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh had been partners on the police force back home, and the fact that they both had survived separately and under very different circumstances was nothing short of amazing. Not only that, but Rick's wife Lori and his son Carl had also survived, and he was the only one lucky enough to have both family and friends with him. T-Dog and Jacqui were both from Atlanta but had not known each other until now. Even so, they seemed to share a comfortable friendship akin to siblings, and Jenner found it hard to imagine that they had not been friends before.

Andrea was a paralegal from Florida, and Dale had been an English professor for many years before retiring. The two also appeared to be close in some way, despite their difference in age by at least two decades. Carol and her daughter Sophie were a solid if not broken family unit by themselves, and both seemed particularly fond of young Glenn. Alexis was the most far-removed of them all, having come from the Northeast and arriving in the deep South just in time for the world to end. Her face sported well-healing bruises and he saw the same shadows of recent loss and heartache behind her eyes as everyone else. Oddly, she appeared to have struck some kind of friendship with Daryl, who was by all appearances as completely different from her as anyone could be.

Daryl had been the one that Jenner initially found himself most concerned about. He wore anger and distrust like a second skin, and also bore every possible recognizable trait of a traditional redneck. He set himself apart from everyone, but especially from Jacqui and T-Dog, as if there were an invisible barrier between them. For the most part he seemed to simply pretend that they weren't even there, and they appeared willing to pay him the same respect in return.

But the appearance of food and liquor had brought about a radical change, and everyone seemed shocked when Daryl laughed at Carl's face upon tasting wine for the first time.

"Better stick to sodapop, little man," Shane said, chuckling as Carl grabbed at his water glass to wash the offending taste from his mouth. Shane extended his empty glass towards Daryl, who was quite uncharacteristically offering refills for everyone.

"Not you, Glenn," Daryl spoke up as he poured Shane a hefty shot. Alexis covered her glass with her hand as he came to her next, but he flicked it away and poured some for her anyway.

"What?" Glenn blinked at him, and Daryl grinned lopsidedly at him.

"Keep drinkin' little man, I wanna see how red yer face can get." he scrunched up his face in a caricature of an Asian expression, and Jenner was mildly surprised as the entire table broke into loud laughter at Daryl's comical face and slightly racial remark.

"One of these days somebody's going to drink you under the table, Dixon," Alexis said.

"Ain't gonna be you," Daryl said, and she shook her head, holding both hands up as if in surrender.

"I can take 'im," said T-Dog, and Daryl turned to look at him, the smile fading slightly from his face. Not a single friendly word had ever been exchanged between the two, and since Merle had been lost Daryl had avoided speaking to him at all unless absolutely necessary. T-Dog looked right back at him, and a slightly uncomfortable silence settled over the table. Jenner watched as Shane glanced at Rick, and Rick shook his head slightly at him as if telling him to hold back. Daryl studied T-Dog in silence, then turned and picked up an empty glass from the rack behind him and walked around the table, pouring as he went.

"That's what I'm talkin' about," T-Dog grinned as Daryl handed him the full glass without a word, and the tension in the air was almost visibly removed.

"Excuse me," said Rick, and all eyes turned to him as he stood with a full glass of Jenner's favorite red wine. "But we haven't thanked our host yet. This little party wouldn't have been possible without him."

Jenner found he couldn't help but smile as everyone raised a glass of whatever they were drinking, and raised his own in return.

"Booyah!" Daryl shouted, and took a long drink straight from the bottle as everyone else laughed and repeated the sentiment. Jenner figured Daryl would be drunk in no time, but he thought it was likely to be the least terrible thing that could happen.

"Yeah," Shane spoke up. "But we still ain't got any answers, do we? I mean we came all this way expecting to find something left of a workin' government, but all we find is him. One man. Why is that?"

"We're celebrating, Shane," said Rick. "No need to do this now."

"Well, that's why we're here, ain't it?" Shane turned in his seat to look at Jenner. "So where is everybody else? Why aren't there more doctors or scientists holed up down here?"

"Well," Jenner looked around and saw all eyes were either focused on him or cast downward at the table. Nobody wanted to return to reality just yet, but the question had been asked and he couldn't just ignore it.

"When the outbreak first went public, most people left to be with their families. When things started to get worse, others just ran. I don't know where they went or why... I suppose they just had to get away. We had a skeleton crew who stayed behind, myself and several other scientists. A few doctors."

"What happened to them?" Alexis asked him. "They left too?"

"No," Jenner looked at her, then up at Daryl who had moved to stand behind her, leaning against the serving counter with a half-full bottle in his hand.

"They couldn't face going outside, but they also couldn't face staying here without knowing what would happen. So they... _opted out_. There was a rash of suicides."

Complete silence fell across the table, and everyone looked away from him. Jacqui rested her head in her hands, and T-Dog put a hand on her shoulder.

"But not you," Andrea spoke up, and Jenner looked at her, returning her flat gaze steadily.

"No," he said. "I just kept working."

The silence continued for a few more moments, then Alexis leaned back and held her empty glass up in the air so Daryl could fill it again.

"Dude," Glenn said to Shane. "You are such a buzzkill."

* * *

><p>With the abrupt ending of the dinner party, everyone was suddenly tired again. After the table was cleared and the cafeteria cleaned up, Jenner escorted them to the lounge area, which consisted of a single large recreation room and several separate visitor's rooms with large couches and tables originally meant for meetings. As they walked, he explained that there was a very large dormitory wing, but he'd cut power to that area in order to keep the generators running longer.<p>

"The couches are comfortable enough, and there are some cots in storage," he offered. Nobody had any complaints, and he hadn't expected they would, considering they'd been camping outside for the last several months. He reminded them all not to plug in anything that would use extra power, and also asked them to take it easy on the hot water if they used the showers.

"Hot water?" said Glenn. "Did he say... hot water?"

"Hot water," Alexis repeated. "There is a God after all."

No time was wasted in exploring the long-lost luxury of running water heated to a point above body temperature that was almost unbearable. Add to that a seemingly endless supply of soap, shampoo and other personal care items that everyone had done without so far, and the exploration became a near celebration. Jenner knew damn well that nobody would go easy on the hot water no matter how hard they tried to be frugal, but like the dinner feast, he left them alone with their well-deserved comforts without comment.

Alexis didn't hesitate, just asked Daryl to pick a couch for her, any couch, and headed straight to the showers before anything could happen to get in her way. She hadn't so much as touched water that wasn't freezing in such a long time, she couldn't even remember exactly how long it had been. She let the water run for a minute and turned the temperature up until it almost burned her skin when she tested it, then flicked it back down the tiniest bit and stripped off her clothes, which generally felt like they were a permanent part of her body. Once she stepped inside, the world outside was almost instantly gone and she wondered if she had actually stepped into a dream. Somewhere on the other side of the wall she heard someone laughing, long drawn out happy sounds, and smiled as she recognized T-Dog's booming voice. He was clearly just as thrilled about the existence of hot water as she was, and didn't care who heard him.

She made full use of every selection of soap on the wall dispensers, and any guilt she may have felt for overindulgence disappeared with the knowledge that she hadn't used up all the hot water herself by the time she finished. She found that the large shower room also supplied lotions, toothpaste and travel-sized toothbrushes, and she made use of all of them sparingly as she dressed at a leisurely pace.

As she ventured back out into the hallway, wearing a red T-shirt at least two sizes too big and jeans cut off just above the knee, she followed the sounds of voices filtering from the direction of the recreation room. But as she drew closer she recognized Shane's voice, heard it rising to a pitch she'd not heard from him before. She paused as the door to the room abruptly slammed shut, and Lori's voice could be heard as well. They were arguing, although Alexis couldn't hear the words from where she was. She glanced back in the direction she'd come uncertainly, then approached the door quietly.

"If I could have traded places with him, I would have," Shane was saying. "You know that, Lori. You _know_ I would have. But I had y'all to think about, didn't I? _Didn't_ I?" Lori said something that Alexis couldn't hear, but her tone had a fearful ring to it, and it sent a silent alarm through Alexis' head.

"I saved your life," Shane said loudly, talking fast and sounding almost desperate. "_I saved your life_, and Carl's. And now Rick's back. I would have traded places with him then, and if I could I would trade places with him now."

"Stop it, Shane," Lori said. "Just stop it now. Don't do this."

"No, you listen to me! I love you, Lori. And I _know_ you love me 'cause you never would have done the things you did with me if you didn't. tell me you don't. Just tell me you don't love me, and I'll let it be!"

"Oh, shit," Alexis said to herself, and covered her mouth as if they could hear her through the heavy door.

"It ain't right," Shane was saying. "It ain't fair and it ain't right!" Suddenly Alexis heard Lori cry out, almost a scream, and she heard the distinct sound of a scuffle inside the room.

"What's going' on?" said a voice behind her, and Alexis whirled and held up a hand to shush Daryl as he approached. They both heard Lori give one angry cry, followed by a surprised yelp of pain from Shane. Silence fell, and Daryl frowned at the door then took a step forward.

"No, wait!" Alexis hissed, and pulled him into a small side office just as Shane yanked the door open and stormed out, heading down the hall and away from whatever had happened in the recreation room.

"Jesus," Alexis whispered, and hurried out into the hall as the sound of Lori crying followed his wake. Daryl followed her, turning to watch Shane's retreating back as Alexis all but ran into the recreation room. He stood awkwardly in the doorway as she approached Lori, who was leaning on the edge of a table dressed in nothing but one of Rick's shirts. She was almost sobbing, both hands over her face.

"Christ, Lori... what happened? What did he do?" Alexis gripped the woman's wrists, and she jumped in surprise, looking at Alexis and then Daryl, who hovered in the doorway.

"It's nothing," she said quickly. "I'm all right, we just had a little argument. A misunderstanding."

"Oh, bullshit!" Alexis was furious. "What did he do to you?"

"He didn't do anything," Lori insisted, but her eyes were wide with fear. "He's drunk. He's just drunk, he doesn't know what he's doing! Please... please don't say anything to Rick. I can take care of it, just please let me handle this!"

"What are ya gonna do?" Daryl spoke up. "Just keep on pretendin' nothin' ever happened and hope yer husband don't find out? Sooner or later, he will." Lori looked at him in horror, perhaps realizing for the first time that others might have noticed that something had been going on between her and Shane back at the quarry.

"Please," she said again. "Daryl, please... Lex... I'm begging you. Don't say anything to anyone. Rick's been through so much, it would kill him."

Alexis turned to look at Daryl, but he only watched Lori with thunder in his eyes and didn't reply. Finally he shook his head and left the doorway, heading back down the hall and leaving the women alone.

"He attacked you," Alexis said quietly. "Didn't he? Lori, he tried to _rape_ you. Do you really want to let that go? Do you think Rick would want you to let that go?"

"No," Lori admitted, and drew a long shaky breath as she picked up the glass of wine sitting on the table next to her. "No, he wouldn't. But he doesn't need this. Not now. Shane won't try that again. I know he won't."

She took a drink of the wine, then another, still shaking but more composed. Alexis watched her face, the ugly memories of her own experience in Atlanta suddenly flooding back to her. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed Lori's hair back out of her face, and the simple gesture seemed to completely undo what little composure Lori had collected.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, and said nothing else, just stood there with both hands on Lori's shoulders as she broke down and cried. Alexis suddenly remembered the conversation she'd had with Shane on the porch earlier in the day. _You can't help it if you care about someone, it just happens. It's not something you can always control, or stop. Even if you wanted it to stop._

Alexis stayed with Lori until she calmed down enough to pull herself together again, then walked her back to the room where Carl was already sleeping. Daryl had retreated into one of the side rooms just up the hall, but Alexis saw the door was standing open and had no doubt he could hear anyone moving around in the hallway. Once Lori was inside and the door closed behind her, Alexis leaned against the wall for a moment, slightly shaken and angry at what had just happened. Finally she pushed off the wall and headed towards Daryl's room, finding him sitting on the couch with his feet up on a coffee table and a sour expression on his face.

"She all right?" he asked as Alexis came in and closed the door behind her. He handed her a bottle of whiskey, which looked as if it had just been opened, and she sat down next to him, taking a long gulp and grimacing at the taste.

"I imagine not," she said. "How long was she sleeping with Shane?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Pretty much the whole time since I met them, I guess. She hurt?"

"No," Alexis took another drink and handed the bottle back to him. "But Shane is going to be hurt if I see him before I get too drunk to care."

"And people think _I'm_ the dangerous one," Daryl muttered.

"Only because they've seen you when you get mad," Alexis replied. "I'm pretty sure nobody thinks you're a threat to the women."

"None of them think that _he_ is, either." Daryl looked down at her as she sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder, remembering the things she'd told him, what happened to her in Atlanta. They passed the bottle back and forth a few times, letting the warmth of the alcohol soak in and numb the edges of recent events.

"Merle raped a girl once," he said eventually. "Right after he got home from the military. He hurt her pretty bad, I guess... she never called the cops, just sent her brothers to kill him. They beat him up somethin' awful, but he gave it back to them worse. She moved away after that, and never came back." Alexis sat very still, disturbed by this new revelation but honestly not very surprised. The more she learned about her fellow human beings, the more she wondered how anyone was going to survive this nightmare.

"So he got away with it," she said bluntly, and Daryl nodded.

"Merle's done a lot of bad shit... and yeah, so have I. But _that_, I just don't get. Doesn't make no kind of sense. I told 'im he deserved what he got an' couldn't even talk to him for almost a year after." Alexis shifted her weight and pulled her feet up on the couch, and Daryl turned to face her, raising his right arm and laying it on the back of the couch behind her head. Alexis trailed one finger over the welts on his neck, which had started to disappear but could still be seen clearly. She felt his fingers playing with her hair and raised her face to look straight at him.

"I wouldn't do that, y'know," he said. "I might not always know the right thing t'do, but I know when somethin' _isn't_ right."

"I know," she whispered, and raised her hand to brush fingers against the side of his face. "I'm not afraid of you. Not like that."

He hesitated for only a brief moment before leaning forward to kiss her for the second time. Her skin smelled of soap and whiskey, and he parted her lips with his tongue, feeling her open for him almost immediately. He closed what little distance was left between them and held her tightly against him. She felt her heartbeat flutter and quicken as he kissed her long and deep for what seemed an eternity, then abruptly buried his face in her neck and applied his lips to her throat.

He planted small kisses in a line down the length of her neck, and the hand behind her head entangled itself in her hair, the other flat against her belly. She turned her head slightly, allowing him access to more of her neck, her mind going blank as she focused on the living being so close to her. Completely lost in the sensation, she didn't notice that he had pushed her back on the couch until her head touched the cushion, and she felt a quick shock of fear. He heard the catch in her breath and started to back away, thinking that he'd screwed up yet again. But she shook her head at him and pulled him back down with both hands.

"Don't stop," she whispered.

* * *

><p>Across the hall and several doors down, Glenn and T-Dog were busy getting drunk.<p>

Jacqui had surrendered to exhaustion at least an hour before, and Glenn was still weak from his gunshot ordeal, which made T-Dog the overall winner of the drinking-everyone-under-the-table contest. Daryl had given them both a run for their money, and Shane had even stopped by for one, while Rick stayed to partake in a few shots of the volatile liquor. Glenn gleefully pointed out the historical moment that was happening right in front of them... a Dixon was sharing drinks with a chinaman/Korean, a black man and a cop. Rick proposed a toast to diversity before stumbling off with a goofy, drunken grin on his face. Daryl had left to find Alexis, and they'd heard Andrea throwing up somewhere in the distance, a sure sign that the party was over.

Now Rick was in his room with Lori, Daryl and Alexis were securely locked behind their own door, and Dale had escorted Andrea to her room. Glenn and T-Dog shared the only room with two couches, and sleep was demanding their attention.

"You know what sucks, man?" T-Dog said to his last remaining drinking buddy, who clearly should not have been drinking at all in the first place, considering his physical condition.

"Lots of things," Glenn slurred. "I got shot, you know. That hurts. But I guess you got something more sespific. Spefisic. No... specific."

"You're drunk, little man." T-Dog laughed, and Glenn laid down on the couch, then sat up again as the room started spinning.

"Yesh. I am drunk. Why does that suck?"

"It doesn't. Put one foot on the floor when you lay down. It helps."

"It's gonna suck tomorrow," Glenn said ruefully, and laid back down, putting one foot on the floor to ground himself against the spinning room.

"Yeah, it probably will."

"So what sucks now?"

"There's people having sex here. And it ain't us."

"Hey, come on man. You're a pretty cool dude, but you're not my type."

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Melissa Etheridge, _Place Your Hand_


	26. Offline

**A/N:** Hey, all... sorry I haven't been able to update much lately... things are going to get crazy busy for a little while. I'm going to be heading to comic con for all of next weekend, and there's suddenly about a million things I have to do. I'll get as much as I can posted this weekend, but next weekend I'll be totally MIA.

I'll tweet on the fly as I usually do, please feel free to follow if you're not already! I'm JadeSun12 on Twitter, and there's a link on my main profile.

* * *

><p><em>Welcome to my nightmare<em>  
><em>I think you're gonna like it,<em>  
><em>I think you're gonna feel<em>  
><em>Like you belong,<em>  
><em>A nocturnal vacation,<em>  
><em>Unnecessary sedation,<em>  
><em>You want to feel at home<em>  
><em>Cause you belong,<em>  
><em>Welcome to my nightmare.<em>  
><em>Welcome to my breakdown.<em>  
><em>I hope I didn't scare you.<em>  
><em>That's just the way we are<em>  
><em>When we come down.<em>  
><em>We sweat, laugh and scream here,<em>  
><em>'Cause life is just a dream here...<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Offline<strong>

**Center for Disease Control**  
><strong>Zone 5, Atlanta<strong>

_Jenner Here. Good morning to everyone who's not listening. There will be no further clinical reports, as I have no test subjects remaining and nothing to report._

_A group of survivors arrived here last night. I've broken all remaining security protocols by letting them in. It seemed like the right thing to do... but if anyone wants to come on down here and arrest me, you're more than welcome. None of them are infected. One was wounded from a gunshot and I initially thought that if it was serious enough maybe... well, he's young and already recovering. They haven't asked many questions yet, but I'm sure they will. I'll probably give them full disclosure, since there are still a few more protocols I haven't broken yet. You can arrest me for that, too if you want. Charge me with treason. I'm an enemy of the state._

_The last generator is still running, but with the amenities used by our guests last night the clock has recalculated to just under 6 hours. Without them, it might have run another day or so. It doesn't really matter, I'd still have nothing left to report. But I guess I won't be blowing my brains out now. That seems like a very rude thing to do when you have guests. I'm pulling together a final report of all clinical updates since Patient Zero made his first appearance. I'll transmit it when it's finished. A requiem of sorts, but unlike dear Mozart I intend to finish mine._

_The leader of this group is a very interesting man. I wish I could give him better news, but I'm afraid the answers he's looking for just aren't here. I told him everything would be all right. It was what he wanted to hear. It's what they all want to hear. Maybe it gave them all one night of rest without fear... I hope so. It's the least I could do, since I haven't done anything else worthwhile. Not really._

_Oh, and there's a reporter here. A journalist. This means I've violated protocols even more than I initially thought. She'd have a hell of a story on her hands here, if there was anyone left who might read it. I recognized her when she came in with the others, but I didn't recall where I'd seen her until I saw her picture in a magazine. I don't think she cares about that anymore anyway. None of them do. None of us are who we used to be, those lives are gone. We're all dead already. I just didn't know it until now.  
><em>

_ Jenner, signing off. _

* * *

><p>Alexis fought against wakefulness for as long as she could. Down here, under the ground and away from the hellish world above, there was no sunlight and nothing to alert those who slept that morning had come. Instead, artificial lights on a timer flicked on in the hallways, sneaking in under closed doors and doing their best to imitate the sun. Alexis opened one eye and looked at the dim sliver of light peeking in and decided it was much easier to ignore than sunlight.<p>

She closed both eyes again and leaned back into the warmth right behind her, listening to the sound of another living being breathing. Daryl's arm tightened around her waist as she moved slightly, his hand moving to hold her in place as if she had no right to get up just yet. She had no intention of getting up just yet, but turned over so she was facing him.

His arms immediately circled around her and he pressed his lips against hers. She felt his hands stroking her neck, sliding down her back and beyond as if he was exploring new territory. Heat from deep inside started traveling in waves up and down her body and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself tightly against him. His tongue brushed against her lips, and she smiled in the semi-darkness of the room.

"I thought you were asleep," she whispered.

"Been awake for about an hour," he replied. "Jus' waitin' on you." His hands slid up to her throat and his tongue brushed her lips again before he moved down to kiss the small hollow at the base of her throat.

"I smell coffee," she said. "And bacon."

"Don't care," he answered. And after a few minutes, she found that she didn't care either.

* * *

><p>"Morning," Rick managed a smile as he came into the cafeteria and found Lori and Carl sitting together with plates of what appeared to be scrambled eggs and bacon in front of them. His head felt like someone had driven a truck through it, then backed up and ran it over to finish the job. Strangely, he didn't mind the hangover. It reminded him that they had found a place that was safe, for the time being at least.<p>

"Are you hung over?" Carl asked, and Rick gave him a quizzical look. "Mom said you would be," the boy shrugged, and Rick nodded.

"Mom is right," he admitted, glancing down the table to see Glenn sitting in absolute misery. "And it seems I'm not the only one."

"Don't ever ever _ever_ let me drink again," Glenn moaned. Jacqui sat next to him, rubbing his healthy shoulder with a sympathetic smile, and T-Dog approached with a frying pan in hand to dump a healthy pile of scrambled eggs on Glenn's plate. Carol and Sophie had been the first ones up, and were already busy cleaning up as everyone else finished at their own pace.

"Powdered," T-Dog said. "But protein helps the hangover."

"I'll puke if I eat that," Glenn protested.

"It'll be worse if you don't," T-Dog laughed. Dale and Andrea appeared, and the smell of fresh coffee filled the air as everyone helped themselves to the simple luxuries that had been missing for so long.

"Why am I the only one who's dying?" Glenn complained, and Jacqui placed a glass of orange juice in front of him.

"Dixon would say it's because _chinamen_ can't drink," T-Dog quipped. "And I'm thinking there might be somethin' to that."

"That's racist," Glenn scowled, then flinched from the pain caused from moving his eyebrows. T-Dog helped himself to a piece of bacon from Glenn's plate.

"Anyone seen Jenner yet?" Andrea was picking at a piece of toast and drinking black coffee.

"Not yet," said Carol. "I'm not even sure where he sleeps."

"He's weird," Sophie added. "I don't like him."

"Shh," Carol frowned. "That's not very nice."

"He_ is_ weird," T-Dog agreed. "What's the matter with him? Is he medicated or something?"

"He's been living down here by himself for too long," Rick spoke up. "He probably thought he'd never see another living person."

"We need to find out what he knows," said Andrea, and Rick nodded in agreement. He glanced up as Shane came into the room, looking sheepish and very unhappy about having to be awake.

"Hey," Rick laughed. "Do you feel as bad as I do?"

"Worse," Shane grunted, and glanced quickly at Lori as he headed straight for the coffee.

"You seen Daryl? And Lex?" Rick asked.

"They're up," Shane said. "I think Daryl even showered again."

"Well, wonders never cease," said T-Dog.

"I heard that," Daryl said as he came in and took Shane's place at the coffee counter. Alexis came in right behind him and sat down at the table with a yawn.

"And how was _your_ night?" T-Dog asked her with a knowing smile, and Jacqui reached around Glenn to slap T-Dog on the back of his head.

Alexis rested her chin in her hands, wondering if she was turning red and pretending not to have heard the question. Shane came around and sat across from her, and she found she was trying very hard not to look at him. She glanced at Lori, who was suddenly focusing all her attention on the last piece of bacon on her plate.

"What the hell happened to you?" T-Dog suddenly said, and everyone looked at him, then at Shane. Three ugly, deep-looking scratches on the side of his neck glared under the fluorescent lighting, and Alexis stared as Daryl came around the table with two cups of coffee. Shane looked up as Daryl set one down in front of Alexis and then sat next to her, studying the scratches on his neck without expression.

"Don't know," he said. "Musta done it in my sleep."

"Never seen you do that before," Rick frowned.

"I know," Shane looked at Lori again, then back down at the table. "That's not like me at all."

Daryl glanced sideways at Alexis as she reached for the sugar, reading the look on her face as clearly as if there were words written there. Things were going to get very tense if they had to share close living quarters with Shane for any period of time. She glanced back at him, and he was surprised to see her blush and look away quickly with a small smile.

"What?" he asked in an undertone. "You weren't embarrassed last night. Or this morning."

"I'm not embarrassed."

"Yeah you are," he gave her a crooked smile as Jenner came into the room with a moderately pleasant good morning greeting for all. Dale and Andrea immediately started peppering him with questions, and Alexis smiled, then shook her head at Daryl's teasing.

"Stop it. I want to hear this."

"Okay," he shrugged. "But you just poured salt in your coffee."

* * *

><p>Once Dale and Andrea's questions had gone past Jenner's ability to answer simply, he agreed to share what little information he'd gathered during his research over the last few months. Alexis grabbed herself a bowl of T-Dog's powdered scrambled eggs and followed the rest of the group as they filed into the main work area of the complex. A dozen computer workstations were set on a raised circular platform in the center of the room, and a series of large display screens took up one full wall.<p>

"Vi, run the video for Test Subject Nineteen," Jenner called as the lights came up. The largest display screen immediately glowed to life, and a computerized voice answered him almost immediately.

_"Test Subject Nineteen running,"_ Alexis paused with a forkful of eggs on its way to her mouth and looked up at the ceiling in surprise. The disembodied female voice was almost unsettling in its cheerfulness. As everyone else gathered to watch the screen, Alexis looked around and found a chair at one of the workstations that allowed her to see the screen easily while using the desk as a table. Daryl stood off to the side by himself, as always taking a position so he could see everybody without appearing to be part of the group.

Within moments they were looking at a computerized image of a human form with the brain as the central focused. Alexis guessed it was a CAT scan or MRI, although her own experience with such things was limited to what she'd seen on TV medical dramas. Jenner was already into a very long description of brain functions, his monologue filled with scientific terminology and medical jargon that most of the group could only partly understand.

"You gonna start making sense soon?" Daryl interrupted Jenner as he was defining _synapses.  
><em>

"Those are electrical impulses," Jenner nodded at Daryl as if suddenly remembering that he wasn't addressing a group of fellow scientists. "Like circuits in the brain. The average adult brain can contain close to 500 trillion such circuits. They connect the nerve cells, or _neurons_, and control every possible function. Think of the brain as a computer, with a highly complex local network. Everything you do, think or say is a result of those circuits keeping the connections active. Test Subject Nineteen was the only living subject that we were able to study as the infection progressed. All of the others were already dead, and we didn't learn much from them."

"This person died?" Andrea asked, and Jenner watched the screen silently for a moment.

"Vi, scan forward to the first event."

_"Scanning forward to first event."_

Everyone watched as the healthy brain was slowly invaded by a dark cloudy-looking shadow. Alexis thought it looked like ants swarming up the brain stem and into the brain itself.

"It invades the brain like meningitis. We can detect it through a spinal tap, but only in very advanced stages. We were hoping to find a way to _prevent_ it, if not cure it."

"You wanted to make a vaccine?" Dale asked, and Jenner smiled wryly.

"It's part of what we do here," he said. "Or what we used to do."

Up on the screen, the anonymous patient's brain was fully coated in the black cloud, and they could all clearly see the outline beginning to jerk and twitch voluntarily.

"All the major organs shut down first," Jenner narrated. the brightly-lit synapses were beginning to wink out one at a time, and the brain was almost dark within moments. Alexis pushed her bowl aside quietly to watch Test Subject Nineteen take one final gasp for air, and then fall still.

"And then, death." Jenner intoned flatly. "Everything you ever were, or ever would be. Gone. Vi, scan forward to the second event."

_"Scanning forward to second event." _Everyone watched in horrified fascination as Test Subject Nineteen's brain slowly began to show changes again, but this time instead of the bright, active lights the center portion of the brain glowed a dull dark red.

"It restarts the brain," Rick frowned. "How?"

"No, not really," said Jenner. "Just the brain stem. The frontal lobe, the part that controls memories and makes you _you_... that doesn't come back. All it does is get them up and moving, make them respond to external stimulus. I'm not even sure if I can say they have any instincts. Certainly no memories, no ability to think or reason. Just... basic impulses."

As he spoke, the clear outline of a handgun entered the picture, the barrel pressed against Test Subject Nineteen's forehead. Carol and Lori both gasped as all were treated to a clear view of the bullet tearing through the brain, splitting the skull in two and ending the vigil completely.

"My god," said Carol. "What was that?"

"He shot his patient in the head," Andrea said quietly._  
><em>

The room fell silent for a few moments, and Andrea turned away from the screen, her face pale and drawn. Jenner noticed her expression and glanced questioningly at the others.

"She lost somebody a few days ago," said Jacqui. "Her sister."

"I lost somebody, too," Jenner said to Andrea quietly. "I know how hard it is."

Alexis sighed and looked down at the desktop in front of her, rubbing her temples against the slight pain that had started to grow sharp in the last few minutes. Everyone was silent as Jenner ordered Vi to shut down the display

"You have no idea what this is, do you?" she asked Jenner abruptly, more because she hoped that his endless droning of medical facts might distract from the disturbing images she'd just had the displeasure of watching.

"It could be viral," Jenner reasoned. "Microbial. Fungal."

"Or the wrath of God," Jacqui said bitterly.

"There is that," Jenner said quietly. His eyes seemed to have glazed over during his teaching session, and his voice was flat and emotionless. He turned away from them all, and reached down to close a black three-ring binder that was lying open on the desk in front of him, then picked it up. "The truth is, nobody really knows."

"Sweet Jesus," Jacqui whispered.

"It's not just here," said Andrea. "Is it? It's everywhere." Jenner looked at her steadily for a moment, then nodded.

"I lost contact with all other zones over a month ago. All over the world. They just stopped reporting in." Lori closed her eyes and exhaled loudly, the single sound expressing everyone's thoughts.

"Oh, Man," said Daryl, leaning forward on one of the computer stations and resting his head in his hands. "I'm gonna get shitfaced drunk again."

As Jenner walked away from the group, he met Alexis' eyes briefly and set the binder down on a desk as he headed towards the doorway.

"Excuse me," said Dale suddenly. "I hate to ask one more question, but... that clock is counting down," he pointed to a large digital time display in the far corner, and Alexis stood to get a better look. "What happens when it reaches zero?" Jenner paused just before reaching the doorway, then turned around after the briefest of hesitations.

"The generators in the basement run out of fuel," he said quickly, and continued walking. Alexis smelled a lie, or at least a major omission.

"What happens when the fuel runs out?" Rick asked, exchanging a quick glance with Shane. Jenner didn't answer, just kept walking.

"Vi," Alexis called. "What happens when the generators run out of fuel?"

_"When the fuel tanks are empty and the generators are shut down, facility-wide decontamination will occur."_

"Decontamination?" Rick frowned. "What does that mean?"

Everyone looked at the clock, which was counting down hours, minutes, and seconds: _02:43:19_

"Where's the basement?" Shane asked, but Jenner was gone.

"This whole damn place is a basement," Daryl said angrily.

_Or a tomb,_ Alexis thought to herself.

"All right," said Rick. "Shane, T-Dog, Glenn... come with me, we'll find the damn basement and check out the generators ourselves. Everyone else, get all of your stuff together and sit tight till we get back. If this place is going to lose power, we're probably going to have to leave." Lori and Carol both nodded with pale faces and herded the children out of the room. Jacqui followed them, and Andrea and Dale made their way out slowly. Rick gestured to Daryl and the two stood talking quietly for a moment while Glenn and Shane located a fire evacuation map on the wall and started looking for the basement.

"Something's not right with him," Rick was saying to Daryl as Alexis came over to join them. "I want everyone to stay together in the guest area, and you keep your eyes open. The weapons are in my room, and the duffel bag. Get them all together, and make sure you keep them with you until I get back, all right?"

"You think _he's_ gonna do somethin?" Daryl looked doubtful, but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that Jenner didn't exactly have both paddles in the water.

"No," said Rick. "But I'm not willing to take the chance that I'm wrong again. Are you?"

"There's a lot he's not telling us," Alexis said quietly. "We should think about leaving long before those generators run out."

Rick looked distressed, and Alexis felt almost remorseful at having pointed out the obvious. Everything he'd tried to do had turned out to be one dead end after another, and the revelation of Lori's affair with Shane only increased the sense of more trouble ahead. As he hurried away with Shane and the others, Daryl nudged her with his elbow and they both headed towards the door.

"You wanna tell him, don't you?" Daryl asked.

"Jesus, no," she said. "Lori has to do that. I'm almost sorry _I_ know now." She hurried around the left bank of computer stations and quickly scooped up the binder Jenner had left lying there. As she followed Daryl at a run back to the guest quarters, she did not see Jenner standing up above them, looking down through the window of his office.

* * *

><p>Daryl went straight to Rick and Lori's room to retrieve the duffel bag filled with the weapons and dwindling supply of ammunition. Everyone else had returned to their own rooms to pack up and wait, and Alexis took a few moments to gather up the few things she and Daryl had brought inside with them. The knowledge that they would likely be on the road again very soon was disheartening. She'd had no illusions that this place would be any kind of permanent home for any of them, but she'd hoped that it would serve as a safe haven for the time being.<p>

_Stupid. What did you think would happen? What did Rick think would happen? We'd arrive here and find a platoon of soldiers ready to save everyone, and maybe even send you back to Boston? Just escort you home so you could go back to your life?_

"My life," she mumbled as she stuffed the last of her clothes into her backpack.

_Yes, that is what you thought. You thought this nightmare was coming to an end. That you could just go home and everything would be all right. Maybe you could even bring Daryl with you. Show him the city life... he'd just love that, wouldn't he? Take him away from the only thing he's ever really loved, thick woods and mountains with those damn trees that you can't even look at without sneezing. Maybe there is no home anywhere, this thing is bigger than everyone thought. It's everywhere. Boston is just like Atlanta, and every other city in between. Maybe this is your life now._

Packing finished, she continued her internal self-chastising for a little while longer, then sat down on the couch and opened the binder Jenner had quite deliberately left within easy reach. It appeared to be something he'd prepared for a presentation, complete with charts, graphs and plenty of medical jargon that was almost incomprehensible. She flipped through a few pages until she saw an entry that caught her eye.

_CASE: TS 18_

_AGE: 43 YEARS HEIGHT: 69 INCHES_  
><em>RACE: WHITE WEIGHT: 170 LBS<em>  
><em>SEX: MALE<em>  
><em>DATE AND TIME OF AUTOPSY:<em>  
><em>PERFORMED BY:<em>  
><em>MANNER OF DEATH: SUICIDE<em>  
><em>CAUSE OF DEATH: ASPHYXIATION FROM HANGING<em>

_OBSERVATIONS: Lividity is fixed in the distal portions of the limbs. The eyes are open. The irises are brown and corneas are cloudy. Petechial hemorrhaging is present in the conjuctival surfaces of the eyes. The pupils measure 0.3 cm. The hair is dark brown, and approximately 5 inches in length at the longest point. _

_Removal of the belt around the subject's neck revealed a ligature mark (known throughout this report as Ligature A) on the neck below the mandible. Ligature A is approximately 1.5 inches wide and encircles the neck in the form of a "V" on the anterior of the neck and an inverted "V" on the posterior of the neck, consistent with hanging. Minor abrasions are present in the area of Ligature A. Lack of hemorrhage surrounding Ligature A indicates this injury to be post-mortem.  
><em>

"Lori's teachin' Carl algebra," Daryl reported as he came into the room and set the large duffel bag on the small table in the corner. "What the fuck is algebra for an' why's he gonna need it for?"

"He's not," Alexis paused at one page and frowned at a chart. "It's a useless mathematical concept they teach kids in high school. I flunked it. Carl must be smart if he can learn it now."

"I taught 'im how to skin squirrels," Daryl said. "He said it was _cool_. What are you readin?"

"Jenner left it on the desk," she said. "It's a bunch of autopsy reports and other research he was working on. But I can't figure out why he was doing autopsies on suicides."

Daryl collected their backpacks and set them near the door, then pushed the blanket out of the way and sat down. He seemed antsy and unwilling to sit still, but peered over her arm to read the report with her.

_HEAD-CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM: Subsequent autopsy shows a broken hyoid bone. Hemorrhaging from Ligature B penetrates the skin and subdermal tissues of the neck. The brain weighs 1,303 grams and within normal limits._  
><em>SKELETAL SYSTEM: The hyoid bone is fractured.<em>  
><em>RESPIRATORY SYSTEM-THROAT STRUCTURES: The oral cavity shows no lesions. Petechial hemorrhaging is present in the mucosa of the lips and the interior of the mouth. Otherwise, the mucosa is intact and there are no injuries to the lips, teeth or gums.<em>  
><em>There is no obstruction of the airway. The mucosa of the epiglottis, glottis, piriform sinuses, trachea and major bronchi are anatomic. No injuries are seen and there are no mucosal lesions. The hyoid bone, the thyroid, and the cricoid cartilages are fractured. The lungs weigh: right, 355 grams; left 362 grams. The lungs are unremarkable…<em>

"I don't even know what all that means," he said, his tone sounding disgusted.

"I don't either. But this guy hung himself," she said. "He must have been one of the suicides Jenner told us about. He's labeled him TS 18... Test Subject 18? Maybe that means he died right before the one in the video."

"Maybe he jus' didn't have anything else to do but cut on dead people," Daryl grunted. Alexis shrugged.

"Maybe," she said. "But as weird as I think he is, he doesn't look like Doctor Frankenstein to me. He ran a toxicology screen, and a spinal tap. Maybe this guy killed himself because he got bitten. Look," she pointed at a place on the page, and Daryl leaned closer to look.

_TOXICOLOGY:_

_1. Blood:_  
><em>a. Ethanol: 0.16 gm%.<em>  
><em>b. Drugs: Codeine present at 0.2 ugml; quantity not sufficient for further examination._  
><em>2. Ocular fluid: Ethanol, 0.16 gm%.<em>

_Cerebrospinal fluid bacterial antigens:_  
><em>Hemophilus influenza B: Negative<em>  
><em>Streptococcus pneumoniae: Negative<em>  
><em>N. Meningitidis: Negative<em>  
><em>Neiserria meningitis K1: Negative<em>

There was more on the next page, but just as she turned it the lights in the room suddenly went out, and they were both plunged into darkness immediately. Emergency lights flickered on in the hallway a few minutes later, and Daryl stood up to listen.

"The air's off," he said, and voices could be heard in the hallway as the others came out of their rooms. Alexis was already up and stuffing the binder into her backpack, and Daryl hurried over to the table to grab the duffel bag then headed for the door. Jenner was coming up the hallway, ignoring the questions everyone fired at him as he passed their doors.

"Hey," Daryl stepped out to block his path. "What's goin' on? Why is everything turnin' off?"

"Vi's shutting down all the unnecessary systems," he said shortly and moved around Daryl to keep walking.

"Air isn't necessary?" Dale frowned as everyone piled out of their rooms behind him and the entire group started to follow Jenner.

"That's not up to me to decide," he said. "The computer is designed to act on specific criteria. The complex is shutting down to reserve fuel."

"What the hell does that mean?" Daryl shouted, his voice now angry. He passed the duffel bag to Dale so he could run after Jenner. "Hey! I'm talkin' to you!"

"What's happening?" The fear in Sophie's voice carried across to them all, and Alexis exchanged a worried glance with Carol as they hurried after Daryl, who was still demanding answers from Jenner.

"It's time to go," Alexis answered her. "Everything will be okay, we just have to leave."

Rick, Shane, Glenn and T-Dog met them back in the main room, and Rick raised a hand at Daryl, who was already well past angry and close to wringing Jenner's neck.

"What the hell is going on, Jenner? The last generator is down to fumes."

"Zone 5 is going offline," Jenner said simply, and glanced up at the clock: _00:34:26_. He shook his head and gave a small laugh, and the sound sent chills up Alexis' spine.

"What do you mean, _going offline?_ _What's going to happen when the generator shuts down?_" Rick demanded. The main lights abruptly shut off overhead, and emergency lighting kicked on in the corners.

"You said it yourself, we're out of gas," Jenner said. "This planet runs on fossil fuels. How stupid is that? When Zone 5 shuts down, the facility will automatically decontaminate."

"We got _that_ part," Shane said. "But what does it mean?"

"Never mind," said Rick loudly. "I don't care, we're leaving _right now._ Lori, get our stuff. Dale, everyone, hurry up!" Daryl took the duffel bag from Dale and pushed Alexis towards the exit to the main lobby, then turned and waved at Sophie and Carl to follow her. Everyone else started to scramble back towards the guest quarters, but a loud alarm suddenly sounded and Vi's voice echoed through the room.

_"Primary power supply offline. Full system failure. Thirty minutes to decontamination."_

Before Vi had finished speaking, Jenner had crossed to one of the computer stations and flipped up the clear plastic cover on a small keypad and scanner on the desktop. He scanned the badge hanging from his coat, then punched in a series of numbers. Alexis heard herself shout as a heavy door started to roll down over the entrance, and Daryl shoved past her to race up the ramp as if intending to stop the door from closing. The sound of it slamming shut echoed through the entire area, and Alexis stood frozen in shock, then pulled Sophie and Carl against her.

"Did you just lock us in?" Glenn exclaimed, turning to Rick. "He just locked us in!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Daryl shouted. "Open the goddamned door!"

"I can't," said Jenner. "The entire facility is locked down. Even if I could, the outer doors are sealed. I told you when you came in, once the door closes it won't open again."

"We thought you meant _for the night!"_ Alexis shouted.

"Open that door, right now," Rick said furiously. "You've got no right to keep us here!"

"I can't do that," Jenner's voice had started to take on an edge, and he backed away a couple steps as Rick advanced on him with Shane right behind him.

"The hell you can't," Rick shot back. "You just now shut that door. Open it now!"

"I _can't_," Jenner repeated.

"Why?" Rick demanded. "What does decontamination mean!"

"Do you _know_ what this place is?" Jenner suddenly shouted. The force of his anger drove Rick back several steps, and the others froze where they were as Jenner all but exploded at them all. "We protected the public from _very nasty stuff!_ Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don't want getting out! _Ever!_"

Complete silence fell, and everyone stared as he fought to get control of himself for a few moments. He took a deep breath and sat down, then turned to Rick with a serious but calm demeanor again.

"In the event of a catastrophic power failure, in a terrorist attack, for example, H.I.T.s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

"H.I.T.s," Rick repeated. Jenner let out a slow breath, then leaned back in his chair.

"Vi, define."

_"H.I.T.s - High Impulse Thermobaric fuel-air explosive consists of a two-stage aerosol ignition which produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen between 5,000 and 6,000 degrees and is used when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired."_

Alexis stood with her mouth open through the entire computer-generated definition, but her brain had only fully registered the words "explosive" and "nuclear." Sophie and Carl pulled loose from her grasp and ran to their mothers, and Rick hurried over to hold Lori tightly as panic started to seep through the room. Daryl stood at the base of the ramp as if unable to comprehend what he'd just heard, but as his eyes met Alexis' she knew he'd understood every word perfectly. For the first time since she'd met him she saw something in his eyes that she'd hoped she'd never see. _Fear._

"It sets the air on fire," Jenner said, his tone almost reverent. "No pain. An end to sorrow, grief, regret. Everything."

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Alice Cooper, _Welcome to my Nightmare_


	27. Run

_There must be some way out of here _  
><em>said the joker to the thief<em>  
><em>There's too much confusion <em>  
><em>I can't get no relief<em>  
><em>Businessmen, they drink my wine <em>  
><em>plowmen dig my earth<em>  
><em>None of them along the line <em>  
><em>know what any of it is worth.<em>

_No reason to get excited _  
><em>The thief he kindly spoke<em>  
><em>There are many here among us <em>  
><em>who feel that life is but a joke<em>  
><em>But you and I, we've been through that <em>  
><em>and this is not our fate<em>  
><em>So let us not talk falsely now <em>  
><em>the hour is getting late<em>

_All along the watchtower _  
><em>princes kept the view<em>  
><em>While all the women came and went <em>  
><em>barefoot servants, too.<em>

_Outside in the distance _  
><em>a wildcat did growl<em>  
><em>Two riders were approaching <em>  
><em>The wind began to howl...<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Run<strong>

_"Open the goddamned door!"_ Daryl shouted so loudly, it wouldn't have surprised anyone if the power of his voice alone was enough to shatter the door into pieces. Shane came running from the guest quarters' hallway with two fire axes in hand and tossed one to him, and Alexis watched as they swung almost in unison at the heavy, immovable barrier. She felt detached, as if she was standing outside watching the entire drama unfold right before her eyes, and she was powerless to do anything to stop the inevitable. The clock had run down to less than ten minutes, and all efforts to talk sense into Jenner had failed.

"A quick death," Jenner was saying. "An end to all the needless suffering. Don't you want that for your family? Wouldn't it be easier that way?"

"Easier for who?" Lori snapped at him. She was sitting on the floor next to Carol, and between them Carl and Sophie huddled together as if wanting to be shielded from the emotions surging through the room.

"Easy for _you_, maybe," Alexis shot at Jenner. "You're already dead! You gave up a long time ago, you've just been waiting for the clock to run down!"

"Maybe that's true," Jenner admitted, and sat back with a tired expression, his eyes drifting up to his office above the computer bay. "But I did what I could with the time that I had."

"Test Subject Nineteen was his wife," Alexis announced to the group, and all eyes drifted to her for a moment, then back to Jenner. He was studying her with a guarded but neutral expression.

"Your wife?" Lori echoed. "That was your _wife?"_

"I saw her name in the reports," Alexis continued. "The ones you left for me to pick up. You practically gave them to me. Why did you do that if you had no intention of letting us leave?_ You_ might already be dead, but that doesn't give you the right to make the same decision for us." A very slight frown crossed over Jenner's face, and Alexis was even more confused by his non-reaction.

"She wanted me to keep working," he said. "With her brilliance, we might have stood a chance. She was so close to an answer, a solution..." Shane rejoined the group suddenly, breathing heavily from his failed battle with the door.

"Can't make a dent," he said to Rick. "That thing won't move."

"You're wasting your time," said Jenner. "Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher."

Alexis barely saw Daryl move, but before Jenner had finished the sentence he was up on the platform and heading straight at Jenner with the axe raised high.

"Yeah, but your head ain't!" he shouted. Rick, Shane and T-Dog all moved forward as if shot through a cannon and grabbed hold of him, hauling him backwards and fighting to wrestle the axe out of his hands. Glenn, almost caught in the rush, scooted out of the way just before being trampled, and Alexis ran around to come up behind Daryl. He was almost foaming at the mouth with complete rage, and the sounds coming out of his mouth reminded Alexis of a vicious dog she'd once seen being removed from an apartment complex in Boston. Jenner hadn't even tried to get out of the way, and he watched Daryl now with a blank expression.

"Cut it out, man!" T-Dog pried his fingers loose from the axe handle and handed it to Alexis. She stood back and waited as T-Dog and Shane pushed until he shoved back at them and walked back a few steps. He started pacing again, fists clenching and unclenching as if he wanted to snap Jenner's neck. Alexis didn't doubt for a moment that he would do just that if given the opportunity.

"Stop it," she said quietly as T-Dog and Shane turned back to listen to what Rick was saying. Daryl had reached a level of rage she'd never seen before, and it was unsettling to say the least. "Please. It won't help. If you kill him, we all die."

"We're dead anyway," he snarled back at her. "Gonna use that sumbitch's _head_ to ram that door down."

"There's nothing left," she heard Jenner say. "All that's out there for you now is a slow, painful existence followed by an excruciating death. Is that what you want for your family?"

"I don't want _this_," Rick insisted."

"But you _do_ want this," Jenner said quietly. "Last night you said you knew it was just a matter of time before everybody you loved was dead." Rick frowned, his face paling slightly as he tried to remember the conversation he'd had with Jenner late last night before going back to his room.

"I was drinking," he said. "That's _not_ what I meant."

_"In vino veritas,"_ Jenner said with a small smile. Lori was staring at Rick with a shocked expression, and even Daryl paused his pacing to listen more closely. Alexis saw the rage fading slightly from him and moved to stand next to him. He glanced at her once and nodded, as if to assure her that he wasn't going to explode and take her down with him.

"What?" said Shane. "You really said that? After all your big talk?"

"I had to keep hope alive, didn't I?" Rick felt himself falling on the defensive. Jenner was twisting his words in a way that he couldn't compete, and there was no time to explain anything.

"There is no hope," Jenner said flatly. "There never was. Everything is gone."

Alexis suddenly felt as if all the energy had been depleted from her body. _No hope_. Jenner's complete unwillingness to survive was almost as infectious as the mysterious plague that had brought them here. Like all those who had committed suicide before him, he was already gone. Everything over the last few months had been nothing but a waiting game for him.

"There's always hope," Rick retorted. Maybe it's not you, maybe not be here. But _somebody_ somewhere…"

"What part of_ everything is gone_ do you not understand?" Andrea suddenly fired at Rick. He turned to look at her in surprise. She'd been sitting on the floor quietly, her knees drawn up to her chest as she observed the events around her thoughtfully. Jacqui stood beside her in silence, offering no opinion and saying nothing at all.

"Listen to your friend. She gets it," Jenner said, and his condescending tone sent a shot of anger up Alexis' spine. She'd tucked her gun into the waistband of her jeans as they were leaving the guest quarters, and the urge to use it on him was getting stronger.

"This is what takes us down," Jenner continued. "This is our extinction event."

"This isn't right," Carol was sobbing openly now. "You can't just keep us here!" Jenner leaned forward, his face suddenly a mask of sympathy as Carol hugged Sophie tightly against her.

"One tiny moment," he said gently. "A _millisecond_. No pain."

"My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this!"

"Wouldn't it be kinder, to be more compassionate to just hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?

"No," said Alexis. "This might be _your_ extinction event, but we're not going to die here trapped like lab rats in a cage. _Open that door."_ She heard her voice shake, and Daryl's fingers brushed against her arm, then suddenly circled around her wrist and pulled her back out of the way. Shane came charging forward with his shotgun on his shoulder, and everyone except Rick scrambled to get clear as he cocked the weapon and pointed the barrel against Jenner's forehead.

"You heard the lady," he said, his voice low and ominous. "Open that door. Now."

"Shane," Rick said sharply. "Don't do this, brother. That's not the way." Glenn hurried over to stand on Alexis' other side, and Daryl's hand gripped her shoulder, pulling her back towards him. Shane suddenly howled in rage and turned the shotgun away from Jenner's unflinching face, and everyone except Rick and T-Dog dove to the floor as he fired a shot into the closest computer, then three more in quick succession. This time it was Shane they all piled on, and Rick yanked the shotgun away and shoved him to the floor.

"You done now?" He asked him.

"Yeah," Shane growled bitterly through heavy breaths. "I guess we're all done, aren't we? Thanks to _you._" Rick stepped back as if Shane had kicked him in the gut, and Alexis glanced at the clock. _07:18:37 _She felt Daryl take the axe from her hand and didn't bother to try to stop him. But instead of going after Jenner, he returned to the door and started swinging the axe against it again. Jenner looked around at them all with an odd expression, as if discovering something for the first time.

"I think you're lying," said Rick. "There_ is_ something left out there. We're not done yet. Somewhere there's an answer to all this, a reason to keep going. A reason to keep hoping. There _has_ to be. We're not dead yet."

"Just let us keep on trying as long as we can," Lori said quietly. Jenner regarded her quietly, then turned to look at Alexis and Glenn, standing white-faced and holding their breath. Behind them, Daryl continued to swing the axe relentlessly at the door. Jenner watched him for the space of three heartbeats, and during that time Alexis saw his expression change to something she couldn't quite read.

"I can't unlock the topside doors," Jenner was suddenly up and crossing to the desk with the keypad. He swiped his badge and punched in the numbers again, and Alexis hardly dared hope. Suddenly the sound of the door opening behind her echoed through the room.

"Come on!" Daryl shouted, but the children were already halfway up the ramp with their mothers and Glenn right behind them. Daryl held his hands out to catch his backpack as Alexis tossed it to him, then grabbed the duffel bag with the shotguns and started running up the hallway behind Carol. Alexis was right behind him, but paused to grab the fire axe from the floor.

"We've got five minutes," she called as she ran.

"Don't stop! Go straight for the main doors," Daryl shouted to everyone. "We'll hack the damn things down if we have to!"

"Elevators are out!" Lori shouted from up ahead.

"Stairs!" Shane shouted, suddenly right behind Alexis. She glanced back and saw T-Dog running to catch up with them, but couldn't see Rick or any of the others. The door to the stairwell was locked down, but Shane simply ordered everyone aside and fired two rounds into the handle, then kicked it down and led the way through. Sophie stumbled and fell on the first landing, crying out as her knee cracked painfully against the step. T-Dog hauled her up without slowing down and put her on his shoulder like a fireman rescuing a child from a burning building.

By the time they had gone up three flights and reached ground level, Alexis could hear footsteps on the stairs below as the others hurried to catch up. T-Dog set Sophie down as soon as they reached the lobby and ran straight towards Daryl, who was shoving and pulling at the doors.

"Jus' as heavy as the one down below," he grunted, and turned towards Alexis, holding his hand out for the axe. Shane ran past them with the second axe in his hands and Daryl followed him. Together they went to work on one of the wide window panes in the atrium, swinging hard as they had on the door just a short time ago. Alexis watched in amazement and growing fear as their efforts produced scratches and little more. Rick suddenly appeared with Daryl's crossbow in hand and handed it to Alexis as he passed her running.

"Nothing!" Shane shouted in frustration. He paused and looked around wildly, his eyes finally finding the duffel bag with the shotguns. He grabbed one out of the bag and shouted for everyone to move, then fired at the window before Daryl was barely out of the line of fire. The shell bounced off the window harmlessly and clattered to the floor.

"What do we do?" Glenn shouted. "What the hell do we _do?"_

"Rick, I think I have something that might help," Carol came forward, fishing around inside her bag.

"Carol, I don't think a nail file is gonna help," Shane sneered, and Alexis would have punched him if there was time to do anything at all. Carol ignored him.

"When you first arrived in camp, I washed your clothes. I found this in your pocket." She pulled out a hand grenade, and Rick's eyes widened.

"Oh my god," Alexis said out loud as Rick grabbed it from Carol and hurried over to the window.

"Get down!" Shane started pushing Carl and Lori back as Rick climbed up onto the window ledge and pulled the pin on the grenade.

"Oh... _SHIT!_" Rick shouted. Alexis grabbed hold of Sophie and pushed her down on the floor, shielding her with her own body even as Carol dropped to the floor beside her. She clamped her hands over the girl's ears just as the grenade went off, shattering the glass and the air around them all. Instantly everything was muffled, and she stumbled to her feet dizzily as hands grabbed hold of her arms, pushing her bag into her hands and making her move. She moved with automated feet, following Daryl through the missing window pane and jumping to the ground below.

"Come on people, run!" Shane shouted from somewhere nearby. Rick was leading the way, already firing at the walkers who had been drawn by the sounds. Shane was to his left, and Daryl close behind on his right. The three of them were literally clearing a path through the walkers. Alexis fired at a walker coming up on them from the side, her ears still ringing from the blast. She took down two more, hearing T-Dogs answering shots off to her right. Just ahead, Daryl ran straight towards a walker and swung viciously with the axe, taking its head off with one clean sweep and kicking it like a soccer ball at another.

She saw Carl leap over the headless body and plow on ahead by himself, Lori right behind him. Carol and Sophie were bringing up the rear, and as Alexis glanced back she abruptly skidded to a stop. Jacqui, Dale and Andrea were missing. They hadn't been in the atrium, she suddenly realized, and they weren't coming out of the window. Carol and Sophie passed her without looking back, but Alexis hesitated for a precious few seconds.

"Lex!" Daryl shouted at her. He'd reached the sidewalk and stopped when he realized she wasn't right behind him. "Goddammit what are you doing? Move!" The others were piling into the RV, and Shane was heading for his own Jeep at a full run. Alexis fired as another walker started to draw near, and Daryl jumped over the body as he ran back to her.

"Come on, are you crazy? We're out of time!" He grabbed hold of her wrist and yanked her, then pushed until she was running ahead of him.

"Where are the others?" she shouted as they ran towards the caravan. "Dale and Andrea -"

"Forget them, just_ run!"_

Suddenly they heard the sound of the RV's horn blaring, and Glenn was shouting out the window for everyone to get down. Alexis risked a look back and saw Dale and Andrea coming up behind them, heading to the right towards a pile of sandbags the military units had set up as a blockade.

"Get down!" she heard Rick shouting. "Daryl! Lex! _DOWN!"_

A freight train plowed into her from behind as Daryl launched a full tackle at her back, and she saw the ground rushing up at her quickly even as the world around them both exploded with a bone-rattling, crushing blow. She hit the ground hard, and her breath rushed out of her as Daryl's full weight collapsed on her back. She felt his hands pushing her shoulders to the ground and he wrapped his arms around her head and neck as the full force of the blast swept over them both. Glass rained down all around them, and the unbelievable heat was scorching even though the massive flames from the blast never touched them. The sound of the building collapsing was indescribable, and the thick, choking smoke that followed turned the sky completely black.

They lay in a motionless heap for several minutes, then the wind shifted and the smoke began to clear. Alexis coughed, her ribs contracting painfully as Daryl's weight continued to press her down. She heard voices up ahead, and the sound of car doors slamming.

"Get off me," she tried to say, but her voice had been stolen from her along with her breath. She heaved and pushed, then turned to watch as Daryl rolled limply and landed on his back beside her. She stared at him for a moment, not fully comprehending why he wasn't moving. The axe lay several feet away, and beyond it she saw movement. She barely registered that it was Dale coming towards them. She heard Rick's voice coming closer as she got up on her hands and knees, then reached out to turn Daryl's face towards her carefully. His eyes were closed. He wasn't moving. _He wasn't moving._

"Daryl," she whispered. "Oh god... _no_..."

She pulled herself up and knelt beside him as a thick cloud of smoke rolled across the entire area. She felt around his head with shaking hands, and felt her heart rise up in her throat as one came away bloody. She heard her breath coming in short gasps as she felt his neck for a pulse and couldn't find it.

"Hang on, don't move him yet," Dale was suddenly there, kneeling on his other side. Andrea stood behind him, looking dazed and detached as Dale found the pulse point with his fingers. Rick reached them and Alexis moved aside as he knelt down and carefully helped Dale roll Daryl onto his side.

"He took some shrapnel," Dale said. "Debris from the explosion."

"We have to move him," Rick said, and looked around as T-Dog and Shane approached, looking around warily. The explosion had destroyed everything in the immediate area, including all that was left of the walkers. But the sheer magnitude of the blast would have been heard all over the state, and they all knew they would have company soon.

"Okay," said Rick. "Let's get him to the RV. I'll drive his truck, ours is out of gas anyway. Come on, easy now." He and Dale carefully pulled Daryl up between them, and Andrea came forward to steady Alexis as she shakily climbed to her feet. The mad dash to the caravan had turned into a slow, painful walk, but Shane was still shouting at everyone to hurry.

"He dead?" Shane frowned as they half-carried, half-dragged an unconscious Daryl towards the RV. Alexis shot him a look, and he withheld further comment as Glenn opened the side door so they could move him inside. Lori and Carl climbed out through the driver's side door and hurried back to their car to empty it of their belongings and transfer what they could to Daryl's truck.

As Rick and Dale struggled in the tight space to maneuver Daryl onto one of the two narrow beds in the back of the RV, Glenn stopped them just before they lowered him down.

"No, put him on the other one," he said. "That's where Jim was. Amy slept there before him." Alexis looked at the bed, not quite understanding. They had stripped it down and burned the sheets after leaving Jim behind, and there was nothing to suggest that it shouldn't be used. But Dale nodded and they settled Daryl down on the other bed, taking care to keep him on his side. Dale left the small room immediately, heading towards the front of the RV. Glenn lingered in the hallway, and Rick paused to talk to Alexis.

"We've got to go," Rick said to Alexis. "Can you deal with him on the road?" She nodded wordlessly, and Rick gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"He's tough," he said. "Tougher than Merle if you ask me. I'm guessing Dixons don't die easy."

"Where are we going?" She asked numbly. Rick glanced at Daryl's motionless form, then out the window.

"I don't know," he said. "Anywhere but here. We'll stop as soon as we're clear and figure the next part out."

Glenn appeared in the doorway, holding Daryl's backpack and crossbow. He moved into the room and set everything down on the empty bunk as Rick hurried out. Engines started up outside, and the RV started moving almost immediately.

Alexis perched on the edge of Daryl's bed and carefully peeled up the back of his bloodied shirt to see what she was getting into. There were three pieces of metal stuck into his flesh. Two were small and situated down low, but those wounds looked shallow and she thought she could pull the metal out with her fingers. The third one was lodged firmly high up between two ribs, and she had no idea how deep the metal had gone. The bleeding was minimal, and his breathing sounded normal, so she was sure he hadn't punctured a lung at least.

The RV made a turn and hit a pothole, and she pulled his shirt back down. There was no way she was going to mess with this until they stopped moving again. She knelt next to the bed and dug into her own backpack for the first aid kit she carried, and quickly shook out several gauze pads. As she pressed them against the cut on the back of his head to stop the bleeding, she heard Glenn make a strange sound.

"Look at this," He said quietly. She glanced over as he pulled loose a long, jagged piece of metal that was stuck in Daryl's backpack and held it up. It was over six inches long and nearly three inches wide, and the tip was sharp enough to draw blood when he tested it with a fingertip.

"Jesus," Alexis breathed. She looked at the piece of metal in silence, thinking that if Daryl hadn't been there - with his backpack - it might have sliced right through her. Her eyes flickered over to the pillow on the empty bed, the one that Jim had rested his fevered head on during the brief time he'd spent in the RV.

_"Keep running. The explosion might hurt you, but he'll be there when you need him." Jim said as he closed his eyes and rested his head back against the pillow. "He just doesn't know it yet."_

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Bob Dylan, All Along the Watchtower

(But I had Bear McCreary's version stuck in my head while writing this. Have a listen on youtube: Ka_sHy9cVH0)


	28. Divided

**A/N:** Hello darlings! Did you miss me? Want some more? Gotta write this down quick before it falls out of my head...

* * *

><p><em>Pressure pushing down on me<em>  
><em>Pressing down on you no man ask for<em>  
><em>Under pressure - that burns a building down<em>  
><em>Splits a family in two<em>_, puts people on streets_

_It's the terror of knowing__ what this world is about_  
><em>Watching some good friends<em>_ screaming 'Let me out'_  
><em>Pray tomorrow - gets me higher<em>  
><em>Pressure on people - people on streets<em>

_Chippin' around - kick my brains around the floor_  
><em>These are the days it never rains but it pours<em>

_It's the terror of knowing__ what this world is about_  
><em>Watching some good friends<em>_ screaming 'Let me out'_  
><em>Pray tomorrow - gets me higher high high<em>  
><em>Pressure on people - people on streets<em>

_Turned away from it all like a blind man_  
><em>Sat on a fence but it don't work<em>  
><em>Keep coming up with love<em>_ but it's so slashed and torn_  
><em>Why?<em>  
><em>Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking<em>  
><em>Can't we give ourselves one more chance<em>  
><em>Why can't we give love that one more chance<em>

_'Cause love's such an old fashioned word_  
><em>Love dares you to care for<em>  
><em>The people on the edge of the night<em>  
><em>Love dares you to change our way of<em>  
><em>Caring about ourselves<em>  
><em>This is our last dance, this is ourselves<em>  
><em>Under pressure<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Divided<strong>

"You gotta be kidding me," Shane interrupted Rick loudly. "Back to the city? After all that? What in the hell for?"

They'd driven about fifteen miles up the highway, far enough from the burning remains of the CDC to feel moderately safe before pulling over to take stock of their situation. And the situation was not much better than it had been before they arrived at the CDC. Unbeknownst to those who had exited the building first, Jacqui had chosen to stay behind as the clock ran down. What had been going through her head was anyone's guess, and only T-Dog had spoken briefly with her before those final moments. Whatever was said, he kept it to himself. The shock and stress of the last few days had been offset only by that one night of relative peace, and now peace had been torn out from under them once again. Rick and Shane had taken quick stock of each vehicle to determine how much gas they had left, and the results were less than reassuring.

Daryl remained unconscious, although with Dale's help Alexis had managed to remove all of the pieces of metal shrapnel from his back. The one wedged tightly between two ribs had been the worst, and it left a wide, ugly wound that she knew would need to be stitched before it would heal properly. Rick came in to check on him, but nobody had any medical knowledge whatsoever and it was impossible to truly know how severely he might be injured. It was Glenn who suggested they head to the city limits to find a drugstore, or any store that had not already been looted, but everyone knew all the supplies in the world would do little good if nobody knew what to do with them.

"Putting band-aids on him isn't enough," Dale said in a low voice to Rick. "He's got a head injury, we've got no idea how bad. This is exactly what could eventually be the end of us all. No doctors, no hospitals. Even if he wakes up, he could get an infection from those shrapnel wounds and die from blood poisoning. He needs antibiotics at the very least."

"Sunnydale," Alexis said quietly. Rick and Dale looked at her, not understanding. She'd given up trying to fix Daryl's injuries and was sitting next to the bunk he lay on, holding a thick pad of gauze to the bleeding wound on the back of his head and watching his face with a thoughtful expression.

"Sunnydale," Dale repeated.

"The nursing home," she said. "They make regular raids on drugstores and the pharmaceutical supplies from the hospital. They've got antibiotics, and more. They can help him better than we can. If he can be helped."

"And they might even give us shelter," Rick sighed. The idea of going back into the city now was far less than he'd hoped for, but he couldn't argue the logic. It was hardly a permanent solution, but that was something he'd begun to fear might be too far away to consider right now. Dale left the small room and headed outside with Glenn, but Rick lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching Alexis as she sat quietly at Daryl's side. He was lying on his right side facing her, and they'd arranged pillows and folded blankets around him to stop him from rolling onto his back during the brief journey. She'd bandaged various smaller wounds on his arms and left shoulder, and if it wasn't for the obvious injuries, one might think he was simply sleeping off the whiskey from the night before.

Alexis' face was drawn and pale, and her expression lingered on hopeless. _If he can be helped._ He'd heard it in her voice. She thought he was going to die, but she wasn't quite resigned to the point of giving up.

"I'm sure he's had worse," Rick said. "With a brother like Merle, you can be sure he's had his share of beer bottles broken over his head." She glanced up at him, and the blank emptiness in her eyes nearly made his heart sink. He was tired of constantly trying to keep hope alive, and was starting to think he wasn't any good at it anyway. He left the RV quietly and headed outside to explain to the group that the had to go back into the city ruled by the dead.

"We don't have any other options right now," he said to Shane when he objected loudly. "We've got an injured man, and we can't help him out here."

"An injured man," Shane repeated, his face was already taking on a bit of red color, a warning sign that Rick knew all too well. "So you're going back to the city for a Dixon _again_, except this time you want to drag all of us with you."

"It's not the same thing," Rick said angrily. "If I could take him myself, get him fixed and come back, that's what I would do. But there's no guarantee it'll be that easy."

"No, there isn't," Shane said. "And there's no guarantee those punks can or _will_ do anything to help him. Why the hell would you risk all our lives for Daryl Dixon?"

"He's wounded," Dale broke in. "Are we going to start leaving our people behind every time that happens?"

"Our people," Shane scoffed. Carol drew away from the group with Sophie and Carl, sensing another Shane outburst coming soon. Lori stood apart from the group near the RV with Glenn and Andrea, and T-Dog stood behind Rick with his arms folded.

"Since when has he started to be _our people_?" Shane continued. "From the moment the Dixon brothers set foot in that camp they made it clear they didn't want anything to do with us. So what's different now? What makes _him_ worth risking all our lives?"

"I'd do the same for you, or anyone else here," Rick stared hard at Shane, his expression suddenly cold. "And you know it. Don't test me on that, _brother._" Shane raised an eyebrow at him, but Dale quickly intervened as Carol returned from stowing the kids in the back seat of one of the cars.

"That's enough," he said firmly. "We have to do _something_. I don't like it either, but there are people in the city who might be willing to help. They've survived this long on their own, and taken care of others. It might be Daryl's only chance."

"At least their building won't blow up," Glenn said tiredly.

"We'll get there, get him fixed up and leave as soon as we can," said Rick. "Get out of the city, figure out where to go next."

"Yeah?" said Shane. "And where's that gonna be? A refugee center? The mountains? Another CDC? We don't even have enough gas to get out of Georgia. We're going nowhere, Rick. And you know it."

"We passed so many cars on the way to the CDC, we can siphon the gas from them, if there's any left," T-Dog spoke up, and Rick nodded at him.

"That's great," Shane growled. "Just great. That's fine. You do what you think you have to do. But I'm thinking you better start looking to your family first. You think it's okay to drag your wife and son into that godforsaken place..."

"Don't," Lori suddenly spoke up. "Don't you _dare_ use us as ammunition in your little war. Just stop trying to be in charge before you tear us all apart."

"I'll take him," said a quiet voice, and everyone turned to see Alexis standing just outside the door of the RV. Rick frowned at her, but she just looked at the ground.

"Shane's right," she said. "There's no sense in risking everyone, and no guarantee that getting him there will be enough. We can't take the kids in there, it's too dangerous. I'll take Daryl's truck, and drive him there myself. I know the way."

"No," said Glenn immediately, and T-Dog shook his head as well. Shane frowned at her, then glanced at Rick. Lori stepped forward and placed both hands on Alexis' shoulders, pretending not to noticed that she jumped slightly as she came up behind her.

"No way," said Rick. "We've already lost enough people. If you go in there alone there's no telling if you'll be able to get back. And how would you know where we'd be even if you could?"

"It could be days before Daryl's able to leave," Lori said gently. "Maybe longer. We're not going to camp out here by the side of the road and wait. We need to stay together, _all_ of us."

"And what if he can't leave?" Shane said, his tone a little less harsh but still unconvinced. "What if he dies? You make that trip all the way there for nothing."

"If he dies," said Alexis. "You won't be bothered by his presence anymore. Or mine. Because if that happens, I won't be leaving Atlanta again." A sudden, awkward silence fell at her words, and Shane looked at her steadily for a few moments before his gaze flickered to the ground.

"Nobody wants that," Carol said quietly.

"He does," said Alexis, still looking at Shane. He didn't say anything in return, so she nodded and looked around at the group. "I'll take Daryl back to the city myself."

"We can't do this," Lori said. "We can't split up, there's too few of us. Rick - " she turned to her husband for support, but found him frowning at the ground. He looked up at her with his lower lip caught between his teeth, then shook his head.

"I don't know what else to do," he said. "Maybe if we all go together, we all leave together. Or maybe we lose someone else along the way. Then another, and another... until there's nobody left. I _don't know_ what else to do. I think she might be right."

"She can't go alone," Carol insisted. "It's suicide. How can she protect herself _and_ watch over him? It's crazy!"

"She's not going alone," said T-Dog. "I'm going with her." He looked pointedly at Shane, who simply shook his head and turned back towards his Jeep.

"So am I," said Glenn. He shrugged when Alexis turned to look at him. "I need a new bandage anyway. I got shot, you know."

"All right," Rick sighed and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. "But Lori's right, we're not going to camp out here. I remember we passed a small motel a few miles from here. Let's all get there, and if it's safe we'll have a place to start."

* * *

><p>It was the one thing everyone was able to agree on, and within the hour the caravan had pulled into the small motel parking lot. Along the way they'd passed several abandoned cars, and spent several precious moments siphoning what was left of the gas out of them. There were a few more cars parked in the lot, and T-Dog went to work on siphoning the gas immediately as Rick and Shane scouted out the area. It was barely noon, and Rick supposed that it was some sort of luck that they'd had to leave the CDC in such a rush early enough so they weren't too close to the city just before nightfall.<p>

The motel was a typical roadside pit stop, made up of twelve small rooms in a single level L-shaped structure that had likely never seen better days even before the dead started walking. A sign on the office door boasted hourly rates as well as weekly, and no speculation was needed as to what kind of clientele might have made use of the premises. Aside from the grisly discovery of the remains of a former employee in the office, there were no surprises waiting inside. A tall chain-link fence surrounded the entire property on three sides, leaving the front the only way in or out. Shane discovered a vending machine in the rear parking lot, and wasted no time smashing through the glass to empty its contents. It was a far cry from the luxurious meal they'd enjoyed at the CDC, but with the knowledge now that the late Dr. Jenner had considered it their last meal, nobody would complain much about having to eat vending machine meals.

After Rick and Dale checked the rest of the building and made sure all doors were securely closed, they chose the two largest adjoining rooms and parked the RV directly in front of them to act as a barrier between them and the road. If a quick run was needed, everyone could go straight from the rooms to the RV. Shane dragged a battered wooden picnic table over from across the parking lot to give everyone a place to sit in the shade, then started a patrol-type walk around the far end of the building.

T-Dog convinced Alexis to leave Daryl's truck at the motel and take his Explorer into the city. With more back seat space it made better sense rather than try to cram the three of them and Daryl into the pickup truck, so they filled the tank as best they could. Glenn helped Alexis gather Daryl's gear as T-Dog and Dale carefully moved him out of the RV and into the back of the Explorer. Alexis climbed in behind him and Rick came forward to close the door for her, then stood beside the vehicle to talk to her through the window.

"I guess I can't talk you out of this," he said simply, and she shook her head. Something about her had changed radically, despite her composed appearance. There was something odd about the blankness of her expression, and he sensed the way a police officer does that she was holding something back, perhaps even hiding something. Rick looked past her at Daryl lying on the seat. She'd arranged herself so his head was resting in her lap, allowing her to hold gauze against the wound on his head and keep a close watch on him. The bleeding had finally slowed, but not before his pallor had taken a dusky gray hue. Nobody had ever bothered to question the unusual friendship between Alexis and Daryl, and Rick suddenly regretted that he'd not taken the time to get to know her better. She clearly saw something in him that the others did not, although Rick's experiences with Daryl had more than convinced him that his rough, angry exterior was not all that he was made of. He watched as she glanced down at Daryl and brushed her fingers lightly over his face, and wondered if Daryl had any idea how lucky he was that someone else had the clarity to see through his angry-redneck bullshit.

"He'll be all right," Rick said quietly. "I'm sure of it. We'll stay here as long as we can, make some trips up and down the road to scavenge gas from cars. If we're not here when you come back, we'll leave a sign on that door telling you where we went," he pointed at the office door, and Alexis looked up to follow his pointing finger. T-Dog approached him from behind, and Rick turned to give him one of the short-wave walkie-talkies.

"Keep it off until you're out of the city," he said quietly. "I'll still try to reach Morgan at sunup and dusk every day. I'll turn the other one on at the same time. Be sure she comes back, T-Dog. Even if he dies, she can't just give up. You bring her back. And Glenn... and Daryl. Bring them _all_ back."

"We'll find you," T-Dog nodded, and Rick shook the big man's hand hard before he climbed into the driver's seat of the Explorer. Glenn took the front passenger seat, and Carol hurried forward as T-Dog started the engine. Rick stood back to give her room as she hugged Alexis through the window and whispered a goodbye. Rick stood watching as the Explorer pulled away until Shane came up to stand beside him.

"You know they ain't coming back," he said. "Right?"

Rick said nothing, only watched until the Explorer had turned left out of the parking lot and disappeared from sight up the highway.

"Set up a watch," he finally said. "Everybody stays inside or right out front. Nobody goes anywhere alone. We'll head out tomorrow to look for gas, short trips only."

"Works for me," Shane said, but Rick was already walking away from him without a backwards glance.

* * *

><p>They rode in silence for a short time. Glenn rested his head against the window, the hectic events of the morning added to hangover had already drained him, and Alexis realized she'd almost forgotten that he'd been shot not long ago. She looked down at Daryl again and felt her chest constrict slightly. He was just too <em>pale<em>, and the dreadful thought that they might not find help in time sickened her.

Nothing made any sense any more. Six months ago she was at the top of her game. A fast-track career in the public eye, a nice home, a very small family unit and too many friends, associates and admirers to count. Almost overnight, it was all gone. Everyone and everything she'd ever loved or thought was important, just gone. She'd cried over her lost life at first, begged the cruel fates to give her back what she'd lost. Then it had turned to missing the person who'd mattered the most. Eventually, she'd found herself starting to forget what her own brother looked like, even though only a few months had passed since he died. It was a horrible feeling. Even the recovery of the photo from her pack that Daryl had rescued brought her little comfort. She still had to pull it out just to refresh her memory, and it almost broke her heart every time.

_But there is no photo of Daryl._ She didn't know if there ever was one, but from what little she know of his past she doubted there were any happy family photos. Or even unhappy ones. If he died, she'd eventually forget what he looked like, too. She felt the tears burning at the back of her eyes as her inner monologue continued on its own, and caught T-Dog glancing at her in the rearview mirror. The Explorer hit a pothole and bounced them all, and she steadied Daryl as his head rolled slightly. She found herself studying his face as it turned towards her, and ran her fingers across his brow softly. For a moment she thought his closed eyelids had moved in reaction to her touch, but decided it was a trick of the afternoon sun when the movement wasn't repeated. T-Dog pushed the Explorer faster as they reached the exit for downtown Atlanta, then abruptly slowed down with a curse.

"Windows up," he called, and Alexis looked up to see a crowd of walkers at the bottom of the exit ramp.

"Oh Jesus," said Glenn. They were at least four deep, and already the sound of their bodies thudding against the Explorer was drowning out any further conversation. Alexis heaved Daryl up off her lap and settled him down on the seat, moving to kneel between the front seats with her gun in hand.

"Don't slow down," she shouted to be heard above the noise. "If they swarm us we could be stuck."

"You don't have to tell me twice," T-Dog, grunted, and pressed down on the gas pedal. "Which way?"

"Straight ahead, first right," said Glenn. "I think."

"Guess again," T-Dog swerved around a small pileup of abandoned cars, all blocking the road they wanted to take.

"Head straight up and cut across the commons," Alexis said, grimacing as a walker bounced off the hood and left a black smear on the windshield. "At least there shouldn't be any cars."

"That's just nasty," T-Dog said as the Explorer took down another walker and they all heard the crunch of its skull being crushed under the tires. "Remind me why we're here?"

"Because you're a sweet, amazing person who only wants to help others," Alexis said, and T-Dog grunted in reply.

"Cracka owes me another drink for this," he said, but gave Alexis a quick half-smile in the mirror. "We're almost there, just sit tight."

Alexis turned around to make sure Daryl hadn't fallen off the seat, then pulled out the magazine of her gun and counted the rounds. She had nine shots, and with the shotguns Glenn and T-Dog had brought they would be good to get inside the Vatos' stronghold and out again, but that was about it. And shooting was the last thing they would want to do in the city.

"Right there," she pointed. "Take that side street to the end, then turn right." T-Dog followed her directions, and soon they were pulling into the open courtyard at the back of the nursing home. The wide double doors of the garage were closed tight, and there was no sign of anyone in the yard. But Alexis already felt a slight surge of hope at the familiar surroundings, and she already had the door open before the Explorer had come to a stop.

"Slow down," T-Dog said. "Looks like nobody's home." Alexis hurried up to the doors and banged loudly on them, the sound echoing all the way into the back of the building.

"They lock it down unless they know somebody's coming this way," she said. Glenn climbed up onto a pile of wooden crates to try to see inside a dusty window, and T-Dog walked around to a smaller door off to the side. Alexis stepped back into the center of the yard, shielding her eyes against the sun to look up towards the roof. Even in lockdown, there was always somebody on the roof.

"Guillermo!" she called, trying not to shout too loud. "Miguel! Anyone home?"

"I can't see anything," Glenn reported from the window. "It's too dark inside. Is there another way in?"

"This door's open," T-Dog called, and Alexis turned to look at him in surprise. The smaller side door was an old-fashioned fire door that latched closed from the inside. The only way it could be open was if it had been propped open or somehow blocked from closing all the way.

"Wait!" she shouted as T-Dog started to pull the door open. "No, don't - !" she stopped mid-shout as the door swung open harmlessly, and nothing happened. T-Dog raised his rifle and stepped inside carefully, then disappeared from view for a few very long seconds. When he came back out he had the rifle resting on his shoulder.

"It's empty," he said. "We should get inside, they must all be in the main building." Alexis nodded, not liking the apparent emptiness of the place, but knowing that they couldn't stay outside for too long. They spent a few moments gingerly pulling Daryl from the back seat of the Explorer, and T-Dog draped one of his arms around his neck to support his weight. Glenn moved to his other side, which left Alexis to go first. She paused to lift up Daryl's head briefly and looked closely at his face. If he wasn't breathing he could easily be mistaken for dead.

"Felipe," she said quietly as she started to lead the way inside. "Please be here, _Ese._ I need you."

The garage was almost pitch black inside, and still smelled of rusting metal and oil from the storage drums in the back. But the uncanny silence made their footsteps seem almost deafeningly loud, and they barely spoke as they made their way inside and around the back of the building. Alexis held her gun in both hands as they came outside into the fenced backyard. This was where Abuela would be, tending her garden or sitting in the shade playing with the dogs. But the yard was empty, and the silence was even more apparent here.

"Where the hell is everybody?" Glenn wondered aloud.

"Maybe it's nap time," T-Dog suggested. Alexis said nothing as they moved towards the entrance. The sick feeling of dread was growing deep inside again as she paused at the doorway and looked inside. Nothing moved in the main corridor. No dogs barked at their approach, and not a single sound came from within.

"Wait," she said quietly as they moved inside and closed the doors behind them. She walked forward a few steps and looked into the main office on the left, where Guillermo was often found with any number of his boys at any given time of the day. Nobody was inside, only the desk and a couple of chairs sat where they always had. She moved across the hall and checked the doorway on the right, which led to an emergency infirmary that the boys had used for treating whatever injuries came their way.

"Here," she whispered. "Put him in here." T-Dog and Glenn followed her lead and carefully laid Daryl down on one of the three narrow beds, then T-Dog moved past her into the corridor.

"Stay here," he said. "I'll check it out. Somebody's got to be here somewhere."

"Be careful," Alexis said. "Something's not right here. They might be trigger-happy if you surprise them."

"Yeah, me too," T-Dog said quietly. Glenn hovered in the doorway, watching T-Dog as he moved off down the corridor, then glancing back at Alexis as she moved to a large storage cabinet at the other end of the room. She uttered a loud sigh of relief as she found it fully stocked, although she didn't know what exactly to do with everything. But one thing she had learned was how to start an IV drip, and Felipe seemed to do it for everyone who was sick or injured, so she didn't see the harm in doing it for Daryl. There were several large bags of saline solution, and she grabbed the biggest one, then started hunting around in a nearby drawer for the other things she needed.

"You know how to do that?" Glenn asked in surprise as she carried everything over and set them down on the small table next to the bed.

"Yeah," she said. "But let's just be glad he's still out. I'd make a terrible nurse." She took a breath and let it out slowly, then sat on the edge of the bed and reached for Daryl's arm. T-Dog suddenly shouted and she jumped, dropping the needle on the floor, then leaped to her feet when he called out again. Glenn was already running down the hall, and she hesitated for only a moment before hurrying after him. They found him standing in the doorway of the recreation room, staring inside with his rifle hanging loosely at his side.

"Oh my god," Glenn said after one look inside, and T-Dog turned towards Alexis with one hand up.

"No," he said. "Don't go in there. You don't want to see - " She plowed right past him, shoving away his hands as he tried to stop her, then stopped abruptly just inside the doorway.

The floor of the recreation room was lined with bodies. Young and elderly alike, there were well over a dozen of them. Alexis felt her throat close up almost immediately as she recognized faces, clothing, even shoes. She heard her breath coming fast as her eyes traveled around the room, taking in the splatters of blood on the walls, the dark pools dried on the floor. They'd all been shot once through the head, and several had clearly succumbed to the plague that had destroyed the city around them. Most did not appear to have reached the stage of becoming walkers, someone had shot the dead to stop them from getting up again.

Alexis took a few steps inside, looking for a familiar blue-flower patterned dress in the carnage. But all she could see were faces. Eyes wide open and staring, some of them only freshly dead.

"My god," Glenn said again. "They killed them. All of them. Why?"

"Maybe walkers got in," T-Dog said. "They were infected. The door was locked from the outside."

They both watched as Alexis took a few more steps until she couldn't go any further. The bodies were piled atop one another in places, and she seemed to be looking for someone. She stood still for a moment in the middle of the room, then turned around and headed back to the door without a word. T-Dog and Glenn stepped aside to let her through, and her footsteps echoed as she ran back down the hallway towards where they'd left Daryl. They stood there for another moment without speaking, then T-Dog gave Glenn a small push until he was out of the room, and pulled the door closed again.

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Queen & David Bowie, _Under Pressure_


	29. Waiting

**A/N:** Oh my goodness, such angst. I almost made myself sick!

So... things are going to be wrapping up here soon, folks. Yes, this story will be ending, I had originally planned to end it at the next chapter because 30 is such a nice even number. But it doesn't seem like that will happen and I won't rush to the planned ending. I also promise not to leave you with a horrible cliffhanger.

Maybe a little one, just enough so you know that there will be a sequel.

* * *

><p><em>I don't feel the sun's comin' out today<em>  
><em>It's staying in, it's gonna find another way, yeah, hey<em>  
><em>As I sit here in this misery<em>  
><em>I don't think I'll ever no long' seen the sun from here<em>

_And, oh, as I fade away_  
><em>They'll all look at me and say and they'll say<em>  
><em>Hey, look at him, I'll never live that way<em>  
><em>And that's okay, they're just afraid to change<em>

_Ah, when you feel life ain't worth living_  
><em>You've got to stand up and take a look around<em>  
><em>You look up way to the sky<em>  
><em>Hey and when your deepest thoughts are broken<em>  
><em>Keep on dreaming boy, 'cause when you stop dreamin' it's time to die<em>

_And as we all play parts of tomorrow, oh, no, no_  
><em>Some ways we'll work, in other ways we'll play, yeah, yeah<em>  
><em>But I know we can't all stay here forever, oh<em>  
><em>So I want to write my words on the face of today<em>  
><em>And then they'll paint it up<em>

_And, oh, as I fade away, yeah_  
><em>They'll all look at me and say, they'll say<em>  
><em>Hey, look at him and where he is these days<em>  
><em>When life is hard, you have to change<em>  
><em>When life is hard, you have to change<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Waiting<strong>

"Morgan. It's me again. I hope you're both safe, wherever you are. If you're hearing me now, you've probably been to the quarry and found my note about the CDC. Hopefully you haven't gone there yet... because it's gone. The entire damn place is destroyed, and the area is not safe in any way.

We lost one of our group. Jacqui. She just gave up, Morgan. She couldn't handle it anymore, this existence. This life. Everything happened so fast, I didn't even have a chance to talk to her. The kids miss her already, we all do. I just never thought she'd be the one to give up so soon. I guess I understand _why_ she did it, and I can't think less of her for it. I only wish she would have stayed just a little bit longer. She ran out of hope, Morgan... and it's starting to happen to us all. I can see it. And I can feel it. I don't know how much more any of us can take. We almost lost Andrea too, and Dale. I don't know what happened in there, but I'm worried about us all.

Another of our group, Daryl, was injured in the explosion. Alexis, T-Dog and Glenn took him back to the city yesterday afternoon. There are people there who might be able to help him. I don't know if they made it, or if they'll make it back. It feels like everything is falling apart. Lori has agreed with me at last, Carl should learn how to handle a gun. Maybe he's too young, but I think everyone needs to learn. Nobody can afford to be helpless anymore, not even the children. I never thought I would hear myself say that, but I see it now. None of us are safe.

We're camped at a small motel off 408, about ten miles west of Atlanta. We'll stay here as long as we can to give the ones who left a chance to catch up. We're heading out soon to scavenge for gas, maybe we can at least fill all the tanks before it's time to move again. I wish Daryl was here. If he comes back I'm going to make sure he teaches all of us how to hunt. We could be in trouble without hm. I think I've been approaching this all wrong, Morgan. We've been doing nothing but running, and soon we might not be able to anymore. We need to stop running and start surviving, focus on the right now instead of worrying about the future. The future is going to come whether we're ready or not. We just need a place to go. Anywhere that's safe.

But Shane... I'm worried that I can't count on him anymore. He's not the man I knew back home, something isn't right. He's got all of us on edge, even worse than those two rednecks I told you about back in the camp. It's all starting to get to him, and I feel like he blames me for everything that's happened since I found them. Maybe he's right, but I don't know what else to do. We couldn't stay at the quarry. We couldn't stay at the CDC. He says we're going nowhere, and he's fighting me every step of the way. I don't know who he is anymore... I just don't know if I can trust him, and it's killing me.

I guess I'm not making our little group sound very welcoming, am I? Even so, I do hope you're able to join us soon. Take care of Dwayne, and yourself. "

Rick switched off the radio and sat where he was for a moment, his head bowed as if in prayer. His early mornings had always been spent this way, finding a place to be alone with the radio so he could talk to Morgan without being overheard. He'd almost stopped believing that Morgan ever heard any of his transmissions, but he needed to stick to the only plan that so far had not fallen apart. The one-sided communications had turned into something more than just an attempt to reach Morgan. Talking to nobody gave him a sense of freedom through anonymity, and he realized he'd begun to use the opportunities to unburden his heavy soul. The selfishness of the act was easily justified... nobody was listening anyway. Rick wasn't a man of much faith, and he couldn't remember a time when he might have prayed for guidance, but he wondered if perhaps that was what he was doing every morning and evening. Maybe God would finally hear him if he kept talking enough, if there even was a God, and if he even cared. But if nothing else, the talks gave him the chance to work things out when it became too much to keep bottled up inside.

It had started to rain overnight, turning into an all-out thunder and lightning storm as the hour grew late. By morning the storm had passed, but the rain continued to fall in a steady drizzle, soaking everything and adding to the bleakness of everyone's mood. Rick stayed where he was for a few moments longer, leaving the smaller walkie-talkie on in case T-Dog was trying to make contact. But it was too soon, he knew that. He was sure they would have at least made it to the nursing home, but the uncertainty lay in whether or not they would return. They certainly wouldn't return today. Finally he switched off the radio and stood from his crouched position under a large tree, and headed back towards the RV. Lori and Carl were awake and scavenging breakfast as best they could. If he had looked back behind him before he reached the parking lot, he would have seen Shane coming around the side of the building. And if he had seen Shane, he would have known that he was within full earshot while he was talking on the radio and heard everything he'd said.

* * *

><p>"How's he doing?" Alexis looked up at T-Dog as he came into the room. She wasn't sure if she'd been sleeping or not, having spent the entire night sitting in a large easy chair he had dragged up next to Daryl's bed for her.<p>

"No worse than yesterday, I suppose. Maybe a little better." she looked over at Daryl, and noted that at least he now looked like he was sleeping instead of dying. His color had returned a bit, and she guessed the IV was doing something for him. She hoped that he wouldn't be too upset at the holes in his arm from her repeated amateur attempts to hit a vein.

"He's probably got a concussion, maybe worse. I don't know. That wound needs stitching, though," she sighed. "And I hardly think I'm the one to do it."

"None of us are," T-Dog sighed and sat down on the opposite bed. He hadn't slept at all either, but after what he'd seen down the hall he wasn't sure he'd want to for awhile. Glenn was sound asleep in the third bed behind him, Alexis had located painkillers in the supplies and given him some to ease the throbbing in his shoulder after she'd finished stabbing Daryl in the arm with the needle.

"Did you find them?" Alexis finally asked. T-Dog shook his head grimly.

"There are a couple of the boys in there, none that I recognize though. Guillermo's not there. Neither is Miguel or that other guy, Felipe. If they're alive they must have left here after... whatever happened."

"Abuela?" Alexis hadn't been able to stop thinking about the sweet old woman... the thought of her meeting her death in the grip of a walker was heartbreaking, but T-Dog shook his head again.

"I didn't see her," he said. "Maybe she's alive."

"They wouldn't get far if they took any of the residents with them," Alexis sighed. "They're just not that mobile. Maybe they're still in the city."

"Maybe," said T-Dog. "And maybe they left the city, just like everyone else. We've got no way of knowing where they could have gone."

Alexis stood up and moved over to check the IV bag hanging over Daryl's bed. She didn't know what else to do. The fluids were something he needed, that much was clear. But he was still unconscious and she had no way of knowing if that would change any time soon. The was a small stock of antibiotics, but she knew nothing about their names or dosages. She didn't know if Daryl was allergic to any of them and even if she did she couldn't be sure if she was giving him the right drugs. And stitches... no way. She would surely make things worse if she attempted that herself.

"I'm sorry, she said tiredly, to nobody in particular. "Looks like I brought us here for nothing. Maybe Shane was right."

"What?" T-Dog looked at her in disbelief. "You of all people talkin' shit like that... if you weren't a girl I might have to smack you."

"Go ahead," she smiled ruefully. "Smack some sense into me. It's my fault we're here anyway... if I had moved faster back at the CDC, he wouldn't have come after me. He wouldn't have been hurt... this is all my fault."

"All right," T-Dog stood up with an exasperated sound. "Now you're pissing me off. It's your fault that the world ended too, I suppose? No, that's not gonna fly." He crossed the room to a table that was piled high with books and started poking through them.

"None of these gang-bangers were doctors, either," he said. "But they were here caring for old folks and patching each other up. Felipe was a _nurse,_ for chrissake. But he stitched you up, right? So where'd he learn to do that?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I never asked."

"Yeah, well I bet I know," T-Dog held up a book from the pile so she could see the title. _Surgical Knots and Suturing Techniques. _He walked over to her and held it out to her with an almost angry expression.

"I bet you read better than Felipe," he said. "So stop feeling sorry for yourself and let's get this party started. I guess I get to be your assistant, Doctor Reilly." Alexis took the book from him and stared at it for a moment, then turned and looked at Daryl.

"I don't think I can do this," she said. "What if I make it worse?"

"If we do nothing, he'll die from an infection. Can't get much worse than that." Alexis was biting her lip and staring at Daryl's face with a pained expression. After everything she'd done and lived through, this was for some reason more frightening than any of it. There were two suture kits that looked like they had been looted from an emergency room in the supply cabinet, as well as plenty of alcohol and bandages. But the presence of the needed supplies alone did not mean that she was suddenly qualified.

"Come on," T-Dog said softly. "You love him. Any_ idiot_ can see that, although I won't pretend I think you have any good taste whatsoever. But after everything you've already done, this is cake. He'd do it for you. Just follow the book. I'll help you."

"I hope he doesn't expect straight lines and no scars," she sighed.

"Hell," said T-Dog. "I think you should stitch your name on him. So what do we do first?"

Alexis took a deep breath and opened the book.

* * *

><p>"Man," said Shane. "I might almost be glad when all the gas in the world is gone. At least we won't be suckin' it out through hoses anymore." He spat twice to clear the foul taste of gasoline out of his mouth and held the hose in place as the liquid trickled through into the ten-gallon gas can.<p>

"I'll get the next one," Rick replied. He was standing behind him, facing the road to watch for walkers as Shane knelt beside the car. Coincidentally, it was a local police car and they had been lucky to find it with a nearly-full tank. They had unloaded Merle's motorcycle from the back of Daryl's truck and taken the old Ford on their search for gas. Rick supposed that would annoy Daryl to no end, but he figured what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him a bit.

"One more should be enough for today," Shane said, his tone light and conversational. He glanced up at Rick, who was standing with his back to him. "We actually did pretty well, I think."

Rick nodded, but didn't reply or turn around, and Shane studied the back of his head for a few minutes. They hadn't spoken much as they drove ten miles up the road in both directions. There were plenty of cars, and while some of them were already emptied, perhaps by people coming this way in the earlier days, they'd found a lot more than they thought they would. Rick thought they might be able to fill all of the vehicles, including the RV. And if they had to leave before the others returned, they'd be able to leave some for them.

Shane didn't like the idea of leaving precious gasoline behind. The way he saw it, Lex, T-Dog and Glenn had chosen to leave with Daryl, and the rest of them shouldn't have to make sacrifices for that. But after what he'd heard Rick saying on the radio, he figured anything he suggested would not be well-received.

_I'm worried that I can't count on him anymore. He's not the man I knew back home, something isn't right. He's got all of us on edge, even worse than those two rednecks I told you about back in the camp... he's fighting me every step of the way. I don't know who he is anymore..._ I just don't know if I can trust him. __

_Fighting you every step of the way,_ Shane thought to himself. _I wouldn't have to if you made even one damn decision that made any sort of sense._

"I gotta tell you, man," he finally said. "I really think we should be heading to Fort Benning. I know you don't like that idea, but it's no worse than the CDC if you think about it."

"i have thought about it," Rick said. "And you're right, it's not any worse than the CDC. But it's over a hundred miles away, and thirty gallons of gas won't get all of the vehicles there."

"So we leave Daryl's truck," Shane said. "Just take the RV and the Jeep. There's less of us now anyway, we don't need all the vehicles. besides, if he comes back he'll be wantin' the redneck mobile, right? They can catch up if they know where we're going."

"Every time we leave something or someone behind, we're weaker," said Rick. "I shouldn't have to tell you that. We have to at least give them a chance to get back before we go anywhere. It's only been a day."

"And how long are we supposed to wait?" Shane pulled the hose free and shook out the last few drops, then screwed the cap back into place. "We've got nothing for supplies, barely any food or water left. Sure you and I can go shoot some squirrels or something, but we can't expect to stay here indefinitely. Sooner or later we'll attract walkers, and another hit like that one back at the quarry will finish us off."

"I know that," Rick said shortly. "But since you mentioned squirrels, there's another reminder of why we need Daryl. Maybe you've already forgotten that it was because of him that we ate as well as we did at the quarry."

"Of course I ain't forgotten," Shane said angrily. "But maybe you've forgotten that Andrea and Dale can fish. I ain't exactly useless in the hunting department, either. We've got other options. Besides, Daryl could already be dead for all we know. He wasn't lookin' too good when they left, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I noticed," said Rick, and turned to face Shane as he stood up with the gas can in hand. "And I've also noticed that you seem awfully quick to write him off. You don't like him, that's fine. I guess you're not the only one. But what about T-Dog and Glenn? What about Lex?"

"What about them?" Shane said, sounding exasperated. "Look, Rick. T-Dog's a great guy, and I'll be just as down about it as you if he doesn't come back. Glenn, too. But you heard Lex, she won't come back without Daryl. She was only with us because of him, otherwise she'd never have left Atlanta. They all made the choice to leave, they knew the risks."

"So they're expendable because they decided that one man's life was just as important and anyone else's, is that what you're saying? I wanted us all to go because I thought the same way. Does that make me expendable, Shane? What about Dale? What about Lori?"

"What about Lori?" Shane snapped. "She didn't want them to go at all, you heard her. And she was right, we shouldn't have split up. Not for anyone, certainly not for _him_."

"That's not what she meant," Rick said heatedly. "She doesn't want him to _die_, she was just worried about the others leaving."

"You think _I_ want him to die, then? Is that it?"

"I'm starting to wonder," Rick blurted out. "The two of you have always been at each others' throats. And I didn't hear you deny it when Lex said it to your face."

"Why should I have to deny anything?" Shane shouted. "Why do I have to defend myself? Oh, that's right... I know why. Because _you don't know who I am anymore._ You don't think you can _trust_ me. Those were your words, right? Well guess what, _brother_... I protected your family when you couldn't. I was there for them and _I_ kept them safe. I looked after them like they were my own, and that is all I'm doing now. I'm thinking about _them_ first... maybe _you_ should start doing the same. You say you don't know who I am anymore? Well I'm not sure I know you anymore. An' I'm starting to wonder too. I wonder if we _all_ weren't better of without you."

Rick could only stand in stunned silence throughout Shane's tirade, and when he was finished he turned on his heel and stalked back towards Daryl's truck without another word.

* * *

><p>Glenn awoke soon after Alexis and T-Dog started to work on Daryl. At first he'd been more than a little shocked at the sight before him. They'd removed Daryl's shirt and rolled him over so he was resting on his right side, and T-Dog struggled to hold the book open for Alexis and hold Daryl's left arm up towards his face while she knelt on the mattress behind him. After briefly demanding to know what they were doing, Glenn came forward to hold the book open for her so T-Dog could free up his hands and better support Daryl.<p>

Following sterile protocols as best she could, Alexis cleaned the wound with rubbing alcohol and draped a piece of torn linen from the supply of sheets over him, leaving an opening around it. The suture needle was curved and awkward to handle at first, and she fumbled for a few minutes, referring to the book's illustrations and photos until she figured out exactly how to use it. She abandoned all hope of straight, even stitches almost immediately, and focused instead on not pushing too deep or tearing the skin as she carefully pulled the edges together.

Glenn watched her hands work for a few moments, but turned slightly pale when she snapped one of the stitches and had to go back to start over. After more than an hour, she managed to close the wound with twelve very uneven and sloppy-looking stitches, and sweat from her efforts was running down her face. She gave silent praise to Felipe for the nice, thin and even line he'd given her on her forehead not long ago. Daryl would just have to be grateful that the odd-looking scar he'd have would be in a place where nobody would see it.

"It looks like a retarded _W._" T-Dog commented, after leaning over to get a good look at it. "Is it supposed to be all swollen like that?"

"Yeah," Alexis stood up to stretch her back for a moment. "It'll probably swell up a bit more. We should dose him with antibiotics, too. God, I hope I never have to do that again."

"I hope you never have to do that to _me_," said Glenn. "No offense, but that's butt-ugly."

"None taken," she said dryly, and moved over to the table to look through the books until she found one that would help her figure out what they had to work with as far as medications. As it turned out, there were two kinds of antibiotics in supply, one premixed in a saline IV bag, and one bottle of regular penicillin. She opted for the IV bag, and once it was hooked up she quickly bandaged the fresh stitches, then gently eased him back into a more comfortable position and pulled a light blanket over him.

"So... now what?" asked T-Dog.

"Nothing," she said. "We wait. If we move him now we could break the stitches."

"We can't stay here too long," Glenn said quietly, and she nodded. The presence of dead people down the hall was not only unnerving and downright depressing, but it wouldn't be long before their decomposition made the entire building unlivable.

"One more night at least," she said. "Maybe he'll wake up. If not, we should just take him back to the motel. There's no reason to stay here, he can rest in the RV. Can you raise Rick on the radio?" T-Dog nodded and headed outside to climb the fire escape to the roof. The sun was starting to go down, which meant Rick would be turning the radio on as they had planned.

"Hey," Alexis called after him, and he paused in the doorway to look back at her.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I couldn't have done this without you. Both of you. After the way Daryl and Merle treated you both, you're the last ones anybody would expect to help."

"Well, maybe that's where you're wrong," T-Dog said. "We're the first ones to step up because we got no reason _not_ to. Maybe someday he'll actually get that. But he ain't never called me _nigger,_ so that's something at least. I still say you should have stitched your name on him."

"I think I need more practice first," Alexis mumbled as he left the room. Glenn dug around in his pack for the cans of soda he'd stashed there and handed one to her, and they both sat in silence for awhile, waiting for T-Dog to come back.

* * *

><p>The sun was already setting when Rick and Shane returned to the motel. They'd made one last stop along the way and drained a few more gallons from an overturned pickup truck, but the ride was completed in total silence. The plan was to go out again tomorrow, but Rick wasn't sure they could stand a full day of silence in each others' company. But that was the way it would have to be. He could send Shane and Dale out together, but with Shane's outburst and recent change in behavior he wasn't willing to leave it to Dale to handle if something should happen. And leaving Shane to watch over the others alone was simply not an option anymore. Rick realized now more than ever how much Daryl, T-Dog and Glenn were needed, and he had already started to worry about what might happen if they didn't come back.<p>

To make matters worse, they spotted several walkers in the road along the way. It served as a grim reminder that their new safe haven wouldn't be safe for much longer. Lori was waiting for them when they pulled in, and she watched anxiously as Shane got out of the passenger side and slammed the door hard. He went around to the back and unloaded the gas cans without a word to Rick, and Dale helped him distribute the gas into the vehicles.

"What happened?" Lori asked Rick as he approached her with a tired expression. "Did something go wrong?"

"No," Rick said simply. "He just has a lot on his mind."

He kissed her once on the cheek before moving off to check the radio. Carl jumped up from the table and followed him, and Lori watched them both go until they were around the end of the building and out of sight. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, then turned back towards the RV and stopped short. Shane was standing there, emptying the contents of the largest gas can into the tank and staring at her with a hard expression. Lori felt a strange chill run up her spine as she returned his stare. Shane's eyes shifted past her to the spot where Rick had disappeared from sight, and she saw his jaw clench in that familiar angry way. She quickly turned away to follow Rick, feeling Shane's eyes boring into the back of her head as she went.

* * *

><p>As night fell over Atlanta, Glenn and T-Dog decided to split the night in half and each take watch. Alexis wanted to do her part, but they both refused to let her do anything but sleep. The building was secure enough, and aside from checking to be sure the doors and windows were all locked down, there wasn't much to do. They stayed in the room where Daryl still slept, and Glenn parked a chair just outside for first watch so he could see the back door where they'd come in as well as the main entrance at the end of the hall.<p>

T-Dog almost immediately fell asleep in the furthest bed, but Alexis refused to give in so soon. She pulled the chair she'd been sitting in the previous night right up against Daryl's bed so she could keep a close eye on him, and did her best to get comfortable. T-Dog hadn't been able to raise Rick on the radio because of the distance. They would have to leave the city and get closer before that would be possible, but they all thought that if they could leave in the morning the radio wouldn't be needed.

Alexis curled up in the chair, resting her head on the arm and watching Daryl's face as he slept. The fact that he'd been unconscious and silent for so long was disheartening. In the time that she'd known him, she'd never been the one sitting up all night while he slept. It seemed odd that she'd never actually _seen_ him sleeping, he only did so when she was asleep herself. She reached out one hand in the dark and touched his face gently, almost accustomed to the fact that it wouldn't disturb him now.

"I know you're tired," she whispered. "And I don't know if you can even hear me right now. But I need you to wake up soon, it's been too long. Please wake up, Daryl. I can't lose you now, I'm not ready to lose you. I'm not leaving without you."

She watched his face for a long time, hoping for some response. Even the slightest movement of his eyes would have given her hope, but none came. Eventually she fell asleep like that, curled awkwardly in the chair with her arm stretched out and her hand resting lightly on his chest. Later in the night Glenn and T-Dog switched places, and Glenn carefully draped a blanket over her to keep her from getting cold before he took the empty bed for himself.

Night turned into morning without incident, and as first light slowly began to fill the room Alexis was sleeping soundly in the chair beside Daryl's bed. Glenn awoke and tiptoed past them both to find T-Dog and discuss what they should do next, and closed the door quietly behind him. Alexis stirred at the click of the door latch, but didn't fully wake. She was somewhat aware that her left arm had fallen asleep twisted underneath her, and she moved to wiggle her fingers until the numbness wore off. Her right hand was still resting on Daryl's chest, and as she stretched her aching body she felt something touch the back of her head. She opened her eyes with a soft groan, thinking it was T-Dog trying to wake her up. But the touch on her head increased into a light grip on her hair, and she raised her head to find Daryl looking right at her, awake if not fully aware of his surroundings.

She started back at him for a moment, wondering if she was dreaming, until he licked his lips and tried to speak. She rose as quickly as she could and pushed the chair out of the way, hardly daring to believe what she was seeing.

"Hey you," she said softly. Tears blurred her vision as he raised his other arm towards her, and whatever she had planned to say was lost when she buried her face against his neck and cried as his arms went around her. The weight of the top half of her body pressed down faster than she'd intended, although she held back from crushing him as much as she could.

"Ow," he grunted.

"I'm sorry," her voice was muffled and half-laughing.

"I'm not."

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Blind Melon,_ Change_


	30. Friends and Foes

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for the ego-boosts. We had a FANTASTIC geeky time at the convention. There's a link to some pics on my profile page if anyone wants to see. I had a little trouble on the way home with a late-night Boston zombie ambush, but luckily I was carrying my crossbow (erm, pepper spray) and escaped without injury. You can't have an adventure without a little danger.

I see some new reviewers this time. welcome!

**Willow The Collie:** I'm so glad you're enjoying it so far, thank you for your feedback. Sorry about your smelly basement, though. That's no fun.  
><strong>Jac Danvers:<strong> thank you very much. I'm not going anywhere  
><strong>h8rz:<strong>thanks for the word count, I'm glad my long-windedness is not going unnoticed. :)

Thanks always to the "regulars" **viktorskrumpet, JoanieNobody, Lucy Freebird, ChildlikeEmpress, ShiveringTree, murphstheman, xXBXx, pitbullsrok, K, GingerGidget, Websterjude**, and **Beholder.**.. who claims she has read the most resent updates and will review. I'm taking her word on this.

**luveskane, Galactic Cannibalism** and **AvidReaderWolf** - wow. thank you so much, that means a lot!

A few people have asked me what Lex looks like. I guess I've never given a full formal description, but I do throw out little bits of her appearance through the eyes of others. Maybe they're not enough, since we're now 30 chapters in and I'm just now answering that question. She's about 5'10, 30-something years old, dark brown hair and hazel-green eyes. Like me with a face that's not quite so round & dorky, and of course she has a much better body. But I never sweat the little things. so... onward!

* * *

><p><em>I'd rather be dead than to live like this<br>Than to just exist a hand and no fist  
>See the walking dead around me<br>Waking up and breaking down before my eyes  
>Rather be dead, rather shoot and miss<br>Rather die for a kiss than to live like this  
>Hear the walking dead surround me<br>Giving in and giving up because_

_We're all doing fine  
>And we're falling fast behind<br>I don't think we'll be the same again  
>We're losing our minds<br>We're all doing fine  
>Is there anyplace to hide?<br>I don't think we'll be the same again  
>We're losing<br>We're losing our minds  
>We walk tonight<em>

_I'd rather be dead than to have no hope inside_  
><em>Watch my will bleed away and my soul divide<em>  
><em>Feel the walking dead around me<em>  
><em>Getting closer moving farther from the light<em>  
><em>I'd rather be dead, stay alive to find<em>  
><em>Somewhere I belong, someone to call mine<em>  
><em>See the walking dead surround me<em>  
><em>See the life and see the death and now...<em>

* * *

><p>Rick watched with mixed emotions as Carl held his six-shooter in both hands, adopting an exaggerated stance as he pointed the weapon at a nearby tree. He'd let him hold it before, unloaded and fully supervised, but it was more to quench a child's curiosity than anything else. He hadn't figured on teaching him how to actually use it for several more years at least. And even then, he'd imagined the scene would be the indoor firing range he visited regularly, with full safety precautions in force.<p>

The gun wasn't loaded at the moment, Rick's only intention was to familiarize him with the general feel and weight before starting on any actual target shooting. Besides, they were still too close to the city to start making so much noise. Andrea had followed them around to the back of the motel, and sat watching quietly as Rick showed Carl how to load, unload and check the chamber for a round.

"Easy on the grip," Rick coached him. "You don't have to hold it so tight. And relax your arms a bit, or it'll kick back and hurt you when you fire. Like this," he reached around him from behind and adjusted Carl's stance, then showed him how to sight down the barrel and line up the target.

"It's heavy," Carl said. "I'm afraid I'll drop it."

"You won't drop it," said Rick. "Just use both hands. That's it. Just find your target, take a breath, and let it out slow. While you're letting that breath out, squeeze the trigger. Don't pull it hard, just _squeeze_ it."

Carl flinched slightly as the gun clicked empty, and Rick nodded.

"Not bad, but you're waiting for the shot. Try not to anticipate it, just get used to how the trigger feels when you use it."

"Do you think Daryl will let me try his crossbow?" Carl asked, failing at hiding his excitement. "He showed me how to skin squirrels, even let me use his knife. But he said he'd beat my ass if I touched the crossbow."

"Did he, now?" Rick raised an eyebrow. "Don't say _ass_ around your mother, Carl."

"Daryl says worse."

"Yeah, but his mother isn't here. Try it again. Once we get moving again, we'll find a place where you can shoot live rounds."

"Do I get to carry it?"

"No," Rick said immediately. "This is just for emergencies. I don't want you touching any weapons unless you absolutely have to. And don't ever point a gun at something that you aren't willing to _kill._ You don't get a second chance on that. Understand?"

Carl nodded and dry-fired a few more times, and Rick met Andrea's eyes for a moment. She'd been silent ever since they'd left the CDC, although everyone had heard her and Dale arguing in the RV the night before. Rick backed off to let Carl pretend-fire in peace and walked over to sit on the ground beside her.

"Shane already gave me a lesson," she said. "Back at the quarry. Amy and I both. She didn't like it, though."

"I'm really sorry about Amy," Rick said. "I don't think I told you that yet. She was sweet girl."

"She was my best friend," Andrea whispered, keeping her gaze focused on Carl. "I didn't really want to be here anymore, you know. I wanted to stay behind, like Jacqui did at the CDC. Dale... well, he threw an ultimatum at me. He said he wouldn't leave unless I went with him."

"He cares about you," Rick answered quietly. "He didn't want to lose you, or Amy. We all care about you, Andrea, and we're glad that you didn't stay behind. I wish Jacqui was here, too. I wish I'd known what she was thinking, I would have said something... anything." He looked up at her in surprise as she laughed softly.

"Mother hen," she chuckled. "You're just as bad as Dale."

"Hey," a new voice joined them, and Rick looked up, his smile fading slightly as Shane's shadow fell across them both. "Looks good, little man," Shane called to Carl, and the boy grinned, clearly enjoying this new responsibility his father had given to him.

"We should get goin' before it gets too late," Shane said to Rick. His eyes wandered, not making any contact with him as he spoke. "Saw that pileup on the 107 off-ramp yesterday, should be lots of gas there."

"Right," Rick stood up and retrieved the gun from Carl, then handed Andrea the short-wave walkie talkie. "Tell Dale we'll be back before it gets too late. That's on, keep an ear out for T-Dog. Maybe they'll come back today." Shane was already walking away towards the end of the building, and Andrea collected Carl to head around the other end.

"Shane, hold up a second," said Rick. Shane stopped and stood with his back turned as Rick approached him. Rick had to walk around him to be face to face, but Shane's eyes shifted away towards the edge of the parking lot.

"Look," Rick said with a sigh. "I'm sorry for the things I said yesterday. On the radio. You weren't supposed to hear that, but it doesn't make it all right. We're all in strung out shape... none of us are the same as before. It's not just you. We just need to find a safe place to go, sort things out and figure out what to do."

"Safe," Shane gave a small laugh and shook his head. "Do you really think anywhere is safe now? I'll tell you what's safe. We have to go where there are people who can help us. The Army, the government... something. We need to go to _them_, Rick. They ain't coming to us. It sure as hell ain't safe to sit here and wait."

"That's what I was trying to do at the CDC, Shane. You know that. And I know we can't stay long, but we need the others. All of them. We have to give them a chance. You know I'm right."

"Yeah," Shane adjusted his hat so it was shading his eyes and shouldered his rifle. "Yeah, you're always right, Rick. Tell you what, I'll go and get the gas. You can stay here and just be right. Does that work for you?"

"Knock it off," Rick said. "Nobody goes anywhere alone, you know that. We don't have rules, Shane but we've got to have something - "

"Rules?" Shane turned and looked him full in the face, and Rick almost took a step back from the coldness in his eyes. "That's right. There ain't no _rules_ no more. No law, no right or wrong. It's like you said, just us and them. The living and the dead. But I'll tell you something... I don't see much _living_ going on around here."

"I know it's not what we call life," Rick fought to keep his voice on an even level. "And I heard what you said yesterday. You kept my family alive, Shane. You protected them like they were your own, because you knew that their lives were just as important as yours. I can _never_ repay you for that."

"That's right, I did," Shane nodded. "And keepin' _them_ alive is all that kept hope alive. It's what made me get up every morning and keep on living. And now..." he let the words trail off abruptly and shook his head.

"And now, what?" Rick urged. "What's changed now that makes things so different? We're in this together now. You don't have to do everything yourself. We keep going, just like we have been. But we have to get _away_ from the city, away from heavily populated areas. Maybe we'll find others, there must be other survivors!"

"If you really believe that, then we pack up this crew right now and head to Fort Benning," Shane said angrily. "Because if there's anything left anywhere, that's where they'll be. Otherwise it's just more of your bullshit about hope and survival. And I'm_ tired_ of your bullshit!"

"Dad?" Rick turned to see Carl and Lori approaching from behind. He didn't realize that their voices had grown loud until he saw them. Lori grabbed onto Carl's shoulders to stop him from moving any closer, and Rick raised a hand to them both. Dale and Andrea appeared behind them, and Rick could almost feel Shane's anger rising as they appeared.

"We're lost out here," Shane continued as if they weren't even there. "And all you're doin' is leadin' us in circles. What in _God's_ name makes you think that you're getting us anywhere at all?"

"Stop it," Dale was suddenly between them. "That's enough, both of you! This isn't helping anything." He put a hand on Shane's shoulder, and the simple gesture seemed to flip a switch in his head. He shoved Dale's hand off and pushed the older man backwards hard. Dale's foot caught on the concrete curb behind him and he tumbled backwards onto he ground.

"Shane, stop!" Rick shot forward to grab hold of his arm and walked straight into a solid right-hook punch. Shane's eyes were blazing and his fist shot out again, hitting Rick solidly in the chin before he could recover from the first hit. He saw stars for a moment, and the random thought that Shane's arm was a goddamned sledgehammer drifted through his mind. The he heard raised voices all around him and snapped back to his senses just as Lori darted forward and punched Shane in the eye with her balled-up fist. She didn't hit him anywhere near as hard as he'd hit Rick, but Shane stumbled backwards a few steps and started at her in shock.

"You stay away from him, you fucking _lunatic!_" Lori shouted.

"Lori - " Rick started to push her out of the way, but she stood firmly next to him with one arm around his chest as she glared at Shane.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" She hissed. Shane stared at her as if she'd just shot him right through the heart, and for a moment nobody moved. Then Carl ran forward and grabbed them both around the waist, peeking out at Shane with fury and fear on his face. Andrea was kneeling next to Dale, who was suffering from surprise more than anything else. Shane raised one hand to his face, touching the spot where Lori had struck him, then looked at all of them in turn.

"Fuck this," he finally growled, and turned away.

"Shane!" Rick called after him, but he headed straight for the gap in the chain-link fence and stormed off into the woods.

"Leave him," said Lori. "Just let him go. He'll cool off."

"No," Rick gently pushed her hands away, then guided Carl to her. "I have to fix this. It's all right, I'll talk to him and bring him back."

Lori stood holding onto Carl as Rick hurried after Shane, trying to find the words that would convince Rick to leave it alone. But there were none, and she could only watch numbly as her husband ran into the woods to confront her former lover.

* * *

><p>"I ain't wearing that," Daryl scowled at the shirt Glenn was holding up. The younger man's grin was a little too wide, and T-Dog snickered at Daryl's disgusted expression. He was sitting shirtless on the edge of his bed while Alexis knelt behind him to change the bandage and check the stitches beneath.<p>

"Damn, I wouldn't wear it either," T-Dog said. "Where'd you get that thing?"

"There's a box of old clothes in the office across the hall," Glenn laughed. Alexis glanced up at the shirt and flinched. It was an extremely large-sized man's shirt in the loudest Hawaiian pattern possible. Daryl owned exactly two shirts until they'd cut one of them off him yesterday, and the other was currently residing in the RV back at the motel.

"Oh, come on, we'll cut the sleeves off it," Glenn laughed.

"Come over here so I can hit you," Daryl said. "I'll aim for the good arm."

"No hitting," said Alexis. "If you break the stitches I don't know if I can fix them. T-Dog, will you please go find him something that won't offend our eyes? And you - " she gave Glenn a half-serious glare. "Stop harassing the patient."

Glenn and T-Dog both left the room, and Alexis shook her head as she taped the bandage back into place and smoothed it down, then turned her attention to the lump on the back of his head.

"Maybe we should raid a clothing store before we go anyway," she mused. "It'll be winter soon, you'll have to wear sleeves. How's that feel?"

"It hurts," Daryl said simply. "But I've had worse." He slid back on the bed slightly and turned to look at her as she stood up and dropped the old bandage onto the pile of trash in the corner, then looked over at the table of medical books in the corner. She was wondering if they should bring some along when they left, despite the fact that they would weigh her pack down, when she became aware of Daryl's thoughtful scrutiny.

"What?" She asked. "Is something wrong?"

"T-Dog said it was yer idea to come here," he said. "He said you were gonna drag me here yerself."

"Yeah," she picked up a couple books from the table and came over to sit down on the opposite side of the bed. "It didn't make sense for everyone to make the trip. A bigger group attracts more attention here. I always did better alone. T-Dog wouldn't let me, though. He invited himself. Glenn, too."

"To cover your ass," Daryl said, and she shrugged.

"I guess. But they wanted to help you, too."

"Why?"

"Why what?" She frowned at him. "Why did they want to help you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I figured out all by myself that you don't think I'm completely disgusting. But why _them?_"

"I guess they don't find you completely disgusting, either." she said simply. She didn't feel qualified to explain human nature to him, but he seemed truly confounded. He sat studying her face with a slight frown as if full understanding was just beyond his reach.

"All right," she said. "Some people help others because they want to, like Dale and Rick. Some do it because they feel like it's their job, like Shane. I suppose others don't think about it at all, they just do it whenever it's needed. I think T-Dog and Glenn fall into that last category. They don't have a reason _not_ to help you. Your life is just as important as the others."

As she spoke, she pulled her hair back and twisted it into a messy knot up above her neck, keeping her hands busy as if the subject made her uncomfortable. He remembered that she'd complained about having to deal with it not long ago and said something about chopping it all off with his hunting knife. He'd been almost angry at her for even suggesting it. He leaned forward abruptly and captured her wrist as she tried to secure the knot in place, then pulled her hand away so her dark hair fell back down. Her eyes met his, and he wondered how he'd not noticed the tiny specks of green in them before.

"What about you?" Daryl asked quietly, and she suddenly felt his gaze sharpen as he watched her face carefully. "What category is yours?"

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe _your_ life is more important to me than any of the others."

_You don't know anything about me,_ he wanted to say. But instead he tugged at her wrist until she leaned forward and kissed him, using his other hand to push through the thick, slightly tangled curtain that was her hair. He pushed her back slightly once so he could look at her face for a moment, then pulled her in again for a longer, deeper kiss.

"Oh my _god_," T-Dog's voice was thick with exaggerated disgust. "You guys do know there's an apocalypse going on, right?" Daryl glared at him as Alexis pulled away and turned beet-red, and T-Dog tossed him a faded blue T-shirt.

"I hate to break this up," he said. "But there's two walkers in the back yard. We should get moving before more come." Alexis nodded and stood up quickly, shoving the two books she'd chosen into her pack. Glenn came into the room and gathered up his own gear, and T-Dog stood in the doorway, watching the back door.

"Where the fuck are my shoes?" Daryl bit his lower lip as he pulled the shirt over his head, the sore muscles in his back and shoulders protesting. Alexis came around to his side of the bed and dropped them at his feet, but he pushed her hands away as she bent to help him put them on. She'd done more than enough already, he figured. And he'd be damned if he was going to sit there and let her tie his goddamned shoes, too. But standing up was a whole different story. Every joint and muscle ached, and his head started to pound fiercely the moment he defied gravity by pulling himself upward.

"Are you sure we should go so soon?" Glenn watched with a slight expression of worry as Daryl wavered dizzily and leaned heavily on Alexis. "Can you even walk?"

"I can walk," Daryl snarled, but his face had gone pale. He remembered feeling this _weak_ only once before in his life, and it wasn't bringing back pleasant memories. He gave up on pride and draped his right arm around Alexis' shoulders for support.

"All we have to do is get to the truck," said T-Dog. "Down the back stairs, through the yard and out through the garage. Can you make it, man?"

"Yeah," Daryl said. "As long as she don't drop me."

"He'll be fine," Alexis said. Her pack was on her back and she held her gun in her free hand. "He can rest in the RV, we just need to get back to the others before they have to move." Daryl nodded once at T-Dog, and he nodded back, then stepped out into the hallway and opened the back door.

"Can we move around them?" Alexis whispered. T-Dog answered by charging down the stairs and swinging the butt of his rifle at the walker lingering at the bottom. It tumbled to the ground, and he slammed its head twice to make sure it didn't get back up. The second one was across the yard in the residents' garden, momentarily confused by the low chicken-wire fence and unable to reach them.

"Come on," T-Dog said in a loud whisper, and waved them forward. Daryl was limping and leaning heavily on Alexis as they moved as fast as they could. Glenn came around to his other side to help, but Alexis shook her head.

"Watch behind us," she said. "And close the door once we're inside the garage." He nodded and fell back, and they moved together in a line like that, T-Dog leading the way around to the garage. Glenn pulled the door closed as they entered the garage, and they moved forward in the dark, the silence broken only by Daryl's breathing as he struggled to keep upright. T-Dog was already at the small side door by the time they caught up, and this time Alexis didn't object when Daryl leaned on Glenn to take some of his weight off her.

"Shit," T-Dog muttered as he opened the door a crack and peered out. "Walkers. A bunch of them."

"How many?" Glenn asked, and T-Dog paused for a moment as he counted.

"Five... no, six. One of them on the right, two between us and the car. Three about twenty feet to the left."

"You didn't lock the car, did you?" Daryl panted, and T-Dog flipped one middle finger at him without bothering to turn around.

"We'll have to shoot them," he said. Take out the two in front first, then the one on the right. Everybody get in on the driver's side, the others won't get to us too fast."

"Somebody gimme a gun," said Daryl.

"Why, so you can shoot me by accident?" T-Dog laughed. "No way, man. You just limp yourself out of here. Shit, they're moving. Go _now._" He opened the door all the way and raised his rifle, firing at the walker that was almost on top of them already, then stepped outside and shot the second one at almost point-blank range. Immediately the other walkers surged forward, and everyone hurried towards the car. Glenn shot one in the shoulder, and it spun around and fell before struggling back to its feet. T-Dog finished it off, then turned to cover Alexis and Daryl as they rushed forward.

Alexis fumbled at the back door handle and yanked it open just as Daryl shouted at her, and she turned to fire at the _seventh_ walker that appeared from behind the Explorer and lunged towards her. Glenn was firing rapidly in the opposite direction, and it suddenly became clear that there were a lot more than six walkers closing in.

"Get in!" Daryl pushed at her and climbed in behind her. She reached over the seat to open the front passenger door and shouted at Glenn to get inside, and T-Dog was climbing into the driver's side at the same time.

"Where the fuck did you learn how to count!" Daryl slammed his door shut and pulled back a bit as a walker collided with it, face pressing against the window. Glenn was the last one in, and T-Dog paused for a moment, then turned to look back them.

"Who's got the keys?" he said, sounding suddenly panicked.

"What?" Alexis shrieked. "_You_ do, you asshole!"

"Kidding!" T-Dog held up the keys, then jammed them into the ignition and started the engine.

"That's _not_ funny," Glenn shouted as T-Dog slammed the vehicle into reverse and pulled away from the garage. He spun the wheel hard until they were facing the side street and shifted gears, then floored the gas and slammed into several more walkers as they drove away.

* * *

><p>"Shane!" Rick shouted again as he plunged forward into the woods. He paused once and looked around to get some bearing on his surroundings. Shane's path was clear, he'd blundered through the thick cluster of bushes at the edge of the parking lot and a trail of broken leaves and twigs were left in his wake. Rick glanced back towards the motel, then took a breath and hurried forward.<p>

"Shane, stop!" he shouted louder as he caught sight of something moving straight up ahead. Within only a few short moments he came to a small clearing surrounded by tall pine trees. Shane stood there with his back to Rick, bent forward and resting his hands on his knees as if trying to catch his breath. As Rick entered the clearing, he moved to Shane's left and stopped short at the sight of a body lying face down on the ground. Whoever it was, they'd been here a very long time and was little more than bones and tattered clothing.

"Come on, Shane. Hold up," Rick panted. "You can't just run away. _Talk_ to me, brother."

"Talk," Shane said quietly. "Talk about what? Let's talk about this poor sumbitch here. Where do you think he was runnin' to? What makes you think we won't end up just like him?"

"We stick together and that won't happen," said Rick firmly. "We've made it this far only by staying together. Don't fall apart on me now, Shane. I _need_ you. We all do." He reached out and grasped his old friend's shoulder, but Shane shrugged him off and started to laugh.

"You need me. Yeah, you needed me all right. I tried to save you, did you know that? I went to the hospital to get you when it all started to fall apart. There were soldiers shooting civilians in the streets, Rick. Putting them down like _animals_. I don't even know why, but I went to get you anyway. I risked my life for you. But I couldn't get you out, so I got your family out instead."

"I know what you did for me, Shane. What you did for them," Rick said quietly.

"You don't know," Shane laughed again, and the sound was harsh and almost mocking. "You don't have any idea. Yeah, but you really did it for me, buddy. Coming back from the dead just like everything was as it should be. But you're still just as blind as you ever were. You don't see. You _never_ saw." He backed away a few steps and turned away for a moment, and Rick could only stand there and try to make sense of his words.

"This fucking world," Shane rubbed a hand over his face, and Rick watched with growing dread as his voice took on an edge of hopelessness. "This fucking godforsaken world of shit, Rick. There's nothing for me here now. I thought I could make it, thought I could hold out I thought I could live with this, but I can't. I just _can't._"

"Shane, we're going to be okay," Rick's chest twisted at the pained sound of his friend's voice. He groped desperately in his mind to find the right words, but Shane's face twisted into an ugly mask of anger and despair.

"I got nothing, Rick. No family, no friends, no respect... no _life!_ I thought all I had to do was wait awhile. It seemed so clear and simple... just _wait_, just be there for her and give her time. She would have come around soon, and somebody would have come to rescue us. She would have come around... but then you came back, and everything fell apart."

Silence fell across the clearing, and they stood facing each other with the body of the unfortunate anonymous dead between them. Rick replayed Shane's words in his head again, then again until realization started to dawn on him.

"Yeah," said Shane. "Everything would have worked out just as it was supposed to. Until _you_ came back." He took a step back and raised his rifle to his shoulder, aiming straight at Rick's head. He felt his hands raise as if on their own accord, and took one step away from this man he didn't recognize.

"Goddammit, Shane... don't do this," Rick had never imagined he'd find himself in a position where he'd have to beg for his own life, but all he could think of at this moment was his family, Lori and Carl under the eye of this madman.

"This has to happen," Shane growled. "You're not supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to_ live_!"

"Shane!" Rick shouted. "Stop this _now!_" The sudden burst of a gunshot exploded in his ears, and he blinked from the shock of the sound, then stared in amazement as the side of Shane's neck almost literally exploded, sending a spray of blood across the clearing. He dropped the rifle and stumbled forward, and Rick heard Lori off in the distance shouting Carl's name.

"You stay away from him!" A voice rang out, and Rick turned and stared in horror at Carl standing on the edge of the clearing, Andrea's nine millimeter held in both hands.

Rick darted forward and swiftly removed the weapon from his hands, then pulled the boy against him to shield his face from the sight before them. Shane stood in shocked surprise for a brief moment, then dropped heavily to his knees. One hand moved to his neck, feebly trying to staunch the lifeblood flowing forcefully onto the ground. He stayed there for a moment and Rick met his eyes, watching numbly as the life faded from them. Shane reached out one bloodied hand towards them both and gurgled horribly, trying to speak. Rick turned his own face away and gripped the back of Carl's head tightly as Shane pitched forward limply and landed face down in the dirt.

"I'm sorry," Carl sobbed against his chest, his voice muffled and strained. Rick looked up sharply as he heard Lori's shouts growing closer and Dale's voice joined hers.

"It's all right," he whispered. "Everything's all right." He straightened shakily and pushed Carl ahead of him, out of the clearing. Dale met them only a few yards from the scene, Lori and Andrea right behind him. Rick blocked their path and pushed Carl towards Lori, then looked at her and pointed back at the motel sternly. She stared at him, white-faced, then pulled Carl away. Rick saw Carol and Sophie beyond them, standing at the edge of the parking lot fearfully. Carol looked horrified at whatever expression was on Carl's face and hurriedly hustled both Carl and Lori away towards the motel.

"He took my gun," Andrea said breathlessly. "Lori was upset, I put it down on the table just for a moment, Rick. He _took_ it. We didn't even see him come after you."

"What happened? Where's Shane?" Dale was breathing heavily from the run, but his eyes were wide and concerned. Rick closed his eyes and tried to get his own heartbeat to a normal rate again, then looked at them both steadily.

"Shane's dead."

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<strong> Zebrahead, _The Walking Dead_


	31. Sleepwalking

**Disclaimer: **I do not own or hold any rights whatsoever to any of the Walking Dead characters, living, dead or undead. I take no credit for Robert Kirkman's storylines or any other of his creations, as he is a God and must not be disrespected in such a way. I do however take credit for my own OCs and original thought processes. Please do not borrow or steal. Thank you!

* * *

><p><em>Tired and lonely still we stand,<em>  
><em>On a road to nowhere.<em>  
><em>Trapped in a world of endless days,<em>  
><em>my engine's stalling.<em>  
><em>Body and mind are breaking down,<em>  
><em>On a road to nowhere.<em>  
><em>Destiny silent, hear no sound, as I wait forever.<em>

_Farewell, I miss you_  
><em>I'm sick of these goodbyes<em>  
><em>Cause it tore us apart, right from the start<em>  
><em>I miss you.<em>

_Feelings that filled me left me cold_  
><em>On this road to nowhere<em>  
><em>Dreams are my saviors, save me now, cause I know I'm fallin'<em>

_Candles burn slowly, flames shine so brightly._  
><em>Light in the darkness, save me from madness again.<em>  
><em>Only the lonely, can possibly know me.<em>  
><em>Heat keeps on rising, fire engulfs me again.<em>  
><em>Keeps on rising.<em>

_Farewell, I miss you_  
><em>I'm sick of these good byes<em>  
><em>Cause it tore us apart, right from the start<em>  
><em>I miss you...<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Sleepwalking<strong>

"No," said Glenn. "No no _no_... side trips are always bad ideas. Remember what happened the last time we took a side trip?"

"This isn't a side trip," Alexis said. "It's a quick stop. Besides, we were lost last time. The place has probably already been looted anyway, but it won't hurt to _look_."

They were parked on the side of the road just outside Atlanta's city limits. T-Dog had pulled over the moment they were clear to try and raise Rick on the radio, and the stop was coincidentally right across the street from a small sporting goods store. Alexis and Glenn had immediately started arguing about whether or not they should go inside, while Daryl sat on the back bumper watching T-Dog a short distance away, talking on the radio.

"We have no winter gear," Alexis was saying. "I don't even know if it snows here, but judging from how cold the nights have been getting, we're going to need more than the clothes on our backs to get through the winter months."

"Yeah, it snows here," said Glenn. "But if we head further South we won't have to worry about that, right?"

"Right," Alexis said. "But if we end up heading _North_, we'll be freezing our asses off in no time."

"I just don't think it's a good idea," Glenn shook his head, and looked at Daryl for backup. Daryl was sipping water from Alexis' metal canteen and did not appear to even be listening to them. T-Dog was facing away from them as he talked on the radio, but turned slowly and started walking back towards the others after a few moments.

"Grimes?" Daryl asked him as he approached, and T-Dog nodded with slight frown on his face.

"Yeah," he said simply.

"What is it?" Alexis asked him. "Are they all right?"

"Yeah, they're okay. Rick wants to leave first thing in the morning, though. I told him about the store, he said we should do it if it looks safe. Ammo's running low. Hell, everything is."

"Why does he want to leave right away?" Glenn asked. "Not safe?"

"It's okay for now I guess," T-Dog shrugged. "They scavenged gas and got enough to last awhile."

"T-Dog, what _happened?_" Alexis said bluntly. "You were talking to him for at least fifteen minutes."

"It's Shane," T-Dog sighed. "Guess he went crazy or something. He tried to kill Rick."

"_What?_" Glenn exclaimed, as Daryl and Alexis exchanged a quick look.

"I dunno, man. Rick didn't say a whole lot. But Shane's dead. They're burying him right now, and Rick wants to be gone as soon as possible."

"Wait, back up... he's _dead?_" Glenn felt like he was about twenty steps behind and running to catch up. T-Dog nodded, and everyone looked at the ground, or their own feet for a few minutes.

"Can't say I didn't see that comin," Daryl finally said. Glenn looked at him in surprise, then looked at Alexis and T-Dog. Neither of them seemed inclined to react to Daryl's less-than-sympathetic comment.

"Let's check this place out and get back," Alexis said quietly. "I'm not having fun anymore."

"I'll drive us around back," Daryl pushed himself off the Explorer's bumper with a grunt and headed towards the driver's side door. "We circle around back an' if any doors or windows are open, nobody goes in. We ain't got enough ammo to risk it. Anybody got a problem with that?"

Nobody had a problem with that, and T-Dog tossed Daryl the keys without a word and climbed into the passenger side seat. They drove around the building, which stood independently from the others around it, and aside from a small broken window high up on an upper floor they could see nothing that suggested immediate danger. Daryl turned the Explorer around and backed towards the single rear door and put it in park as T-Dog popped the rear hatch.

The hasty plan was simple... get inside, grab what you can, leave. Daryl was not able to move as fast as he liked for a stealth mission, so he would stay and watch the door as well as the parking lot while the others went inside. T-Dog took a crowbar from the back of the Explorer and pried the padlocked door open.

"Jus' like old times?" Daryl smirked at him, and T-Dog snorted.

"Fuck you, man. Just cause I'm black doesn't mean breaking and entering is my favorite pastime," he growled. Daryl shrugged and reached out a hand for the rifle Alexis handed him. She followed T-Dog inside, and Glenn followed her. Daryl watched until all three of them were out of sight, then leaned up against the doorjamb so he could watch the parking lot and the store interior.

The store consisted of a single main room and one locked back room. T-Dog checked the door and found it closed, then headed up towards the front where a single long display case could be seen. Somebody _had_ already been here, the case was smashed and most of the display handguns were missing. Glenn moved around behind the counter and found most of the ammunition still stocked on the shelves.

"They didn't take much," he said in a low voice. "Most of it's still here."

"Probably only took what they could carry," T-Dog suggested. "Lex, where you at?"

"Over here," she spoke quietly, but her voice carried across the wide open space. "Camping and hunting gear. This is going to make Daryl very happy."

"All right," T-Dog sighed. "Blue light special, shoppers. Let's do this and get out of here."

They stuffed two large backpacks full of ammunition, and Alexis commandeered a small shopping cart which she and T-Dog loaded full with camping and hunting gear. They grabbed thin packaged emergency blankets and rain ponchos, butane lighters, matches, canteens, hunting knives, several flashlights and every battery on the display case. The store had clearly ceased operating during the summer months, long before any real winter gear would have gone on display, but upon breaking into the back storeroom they found half a dozen lined and hooded camouflage coats, still tagged and possibly left over from the previous season. There were also a few high-altitude insulated sleeping bags and other miscellaneous items such as thick gloves and knitted skullcaps, but the best discovery of all was credited to Glenn, who beckoned to Alexis with a smile and pointed at a large cardboard box on the floor in a corner. There were packages of crossbow bolts and arrows inside, in varying lengths and types. Alexis didn't have a clue whether Daryl preferred Ten Point, Carbon Gold Tip, Bone Collector, Half Moon Knock, Lightning Strike, or Excalibur, so she grabbed them all.

T-Dog had already brought their first load out to the Explorer when she emerged with Glenn and heaved the rest inside. Daryl was looking even more tired than before, but also positively annoyed as he stood at the front of the Explorer to watch in all directions as they loaded the gear into the back.

"Hurry the fuck up," he snapped at them all. "There's walkers a block up, you can see them from here."

"Be nice or you won't get your presents," Alexis said, but hurried to close the rear door anyway. T-Dog reclaimed driving rights and Daryl surprised him by not arguing as he handed over the keys. They were back on the road in minutes, once again leaving Atlanta behind.

* * *

><p>Shane was buried where he'd fallen, the grave shallow and filled without ceremony or tears. The shock of what had happened still showed clearly in the faces of everyone who attended the brief burial, and nobody seemed prepared to wish their former companion a speedy journey to whatever awaited him in the afterlife. Carl and Lori remained behind at the motel when the others made the short trip through the woods to the clearing for the awkward funeral. Even Dale found himself unable to think of anything appropriate to say, so he said nothing as he helped Rick shovel dirt onto the body of the man he'd trusted with his own life time and time again.<p>

A rough cross fashioned out of sticks and tied together with a pair of worn bootlaces would mark Shane Walsh's grave. Rick stood looking at the finished work in silence for a moment, then hung Shane's police cap on the cross and turned away. The sun already hung low in the sky, the entire day having already passed before anyone bothered to take notice.

"T-Dog called in, they're looting a sporting goods store for ammo and supplies," Rick said to Dale as they made their way out of the woods and back to the motel parking lot. "I want everyone ready to go before sleeping tonight. We leave at first light tomorrow."

"Rick," Dale said hesitantly. "Look, I don't know exactly what happened out there or what Shane said to you. But the man _was_ your friend. Nobody expects you to - "

"He was my _best_ friend," Rick interrupted him. "But Shane Walsh would never have pointed a gun at my face, Dale. He certainly would never have wanted me dead so he could have my wife for himself. That wasn't Shane. I don't have any idea who _that_ man was, and I'm not discussing it any more."

Dale watched as Rick walked away, heading for the small room he'd shared with Lori and Carl since they'd arrived. He'd begun to suspect something had happened between Lori and Shane some time ago, but kept his thoughts to himself. He'd decided that their brief affair was born out of traumatic times and stress and couldn't fault either of them for seeking comfort in each other. But Rick's arrival at the camp had complicated matters in ways he hadn't even begun to imagine, and Dale suspected they were going to get even more complicated soon enough.

Carl was asleep, lying with his face buried in a pillow while Lori sat next to him and stroked the back of his head in that way that only mothers can do. She felt her heart skip a beat or two when Rick entered, but saw no anger on his face as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. He leaned against it and closed his eyes, letting out a long breath as if he'd been holding it until he reached the privacy of the room. When his eyes finally met Lori's they were guarded and composed, but she saw no sign of blame or accusation.

"It's done," he said quietly. "We buried him in the woods." Lori said nothing, only looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. Rick had said little about what had happened between him and Shane, and he was working so hard to keep his emotions in check now Lori hadn't any idea what he knew, or didn't know.

"The others are on their way back," he said. "We'll all get some rest and leave first thing in the morning." Lori nodded, her wide eyes still fixed on Rick's face as he came forward and sat down in the ugly, overstuffed chair next to the bed.

"He say anything?" Rick asked, studying Carl's face as he slept.

"He's scared," said Lori. "Angry. Traumatized... Rick what _happened?_"

"He's been carrying something around for a long time, Lori." Rick avoided her gaze as he spoke, but found that watching Carl was just as difficult at that moment. "I don't understand exactly what or why, but he seemed to think I was in the way. That I somehow interfered and disrupted his life here... with you, and Carl." He looked up at her then, and found that she was the one avoiding his gaze now.

"I guess he got it into his head that you all were _his_ family now." Rick finished, and watched Lori with the sharp eye of a police officer. Her eyes were cast downward towards Carl, the glimmer of a tear catching in the late afternoon light from the window. She quickly reached up to brush it away, then took a deep breath and let it out.

"Everyone saw it," she said quietly. "He _changed,_ Rick. But I suppose we all did."

"Yeah," Rick watched her face for the slightest of telltale signs, but saw nothing other than months of fear, stress, worry and heartache carved into her features. He reached out to run his hand from her elbow to her shoulder and back down again, forcing a weak smile as she turned to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Rick said. "I might as well have put that gun in Carl's hand myself... he did everything I told him to do, I just never imagined it would be against Shane."

"If he hadn't done everything you told him to do, you'd be dead right now." Lori said simply. "And Shane would have buried _you_ in the woods. I'm just scared things will never be the same again," her face crumpled as she gave in to tears, and Rick rose swiftly to pull her into his arms.

"Some things won't ever be the same," he whispered. "But I love you, and nothing's ever going to change that." Lori's fingers dug into his arms as he spoke, and she held onto him more tightly as if she could hold on to the very moment itself. Headlights splashed across them both from the window, and Rick glanced up to see T-Dog's Explorer pulling into the parking lot.

"They're back," he sighed. "Let me go and talk to them for a moment, then I'll be back. You need to get some rest."

"So do you," Lori argued, but let him go.

T-Dog and Glenn got out of the Explorer first, followed by Lex. Rick nodded at them all and accepted a handshake from T-Dog and a hug from Lex. He then turned to see Daryl emerging from the back passenger side, moving slowly and stiffly as an old man. Rick found he couldn't suppress the half smile that tugged at his lips as Daryl grudgingly allowed Lex to support him as he walked, but kept the humor to himself as Daryl nodded once at him.

"Good to see you, Dixon," Rick said, and held out a hand to the younger man as he came forward. Daryl frowned at the hand as if unsure what he was supposed to do with it, then put out his own and shook Rick's briefly.

"Guess you all had a day almost as bad as mine," Daryl said, and Rick nodded grimly, all traces of the smile vanishing.

"Is Lori okay?" Lex asked, and Rick frowned slightly, wondering if he was the only one who _hadn't_ noticed Shane's obsessiveness towards Lori. He nodded towards the door to their room.

"She's inside with Carl," he said. "I guess we're all pretty shaken up, but Carl's never even fired a gun before. And now..." he paused as Lex looked at him blankly, then her eyes grew wide as she stared at him.

"Oh my god... are you saying _Carl_ shot Shane?" she asked bluntly, and Rick nodded. T-Dog and Glenn paused while unloading supplies to transfer to the RV.

"What he do that for?" Daryl asked simply, and grunted as Lex elbowed him _- gently -_ in the ribs. Rick wondered if he'd been sleepwalking all this time. Everybody seemed to have noticed something was off, and it wasn't like Rick to miss something so obvious.

"It's a long story," Rick sighed. "And you look like you need more rest. We're back on the road tomorrow, there'll be plenty of time for stories." he turned away from them all and headed towards the room. Carol directed Lex and Daryl to one of the three rooms deemed useable, choosing to sleep in the RV with Sophie, Dale and Andrea herself. Nobody wanted to say that Shane's departure meant a little extra for anyone, but T-Dog quietly drained the gas from his Jeep and made sure the RV had a completely full tank before taking first watch while Glenn slept in the third room.

* * *

><p>"I think I heard about this place," Daryl commented as he eased himself down on the double bed's garish spread and kicked at his shoes in a half-assed manner until they came off. "We might not want to git <em>between<em> the sheets if you know what I mean."

"I got this covered," Lex yawned and unrolled one of the sleeping bags, then unzipped it all the way around until it was completely open. She spread it out on the bed, then unrolled the second sleeping bag and repeated the process. Daryl was lying on the first layer of her jury-rigged sleeping setup, watching her through heavy-lidded eyes as she struggled with the zipper of the second one. She glanced up at him and gave him a small smile, then shook out the makeshift blanket and tossed it to the side as she crawled up beside him.

He raised one eyebrow as she pulled at his belt, lifting one hand to lazily push her hair back out of her face. She immediately leaned down and pressed her lips against his, and he contented himself with working both hands through her hair as she kissed him lightly and pulled his clothing away one piece at a time. She shed her own just as quickly and pulled the top sleeping bag over them both to shut out the cold night air. Her body warmed his in the cold darkness, and somewhere way back deep in the part his brain that thought about such things, he wished he could find the words to express how she also brought warmth to his soul.

"You're beautiful," he mumbled, half aware that his words were slurred.

"You're already sleeping," she replied with a whisper, and he could hear the smile behind her words. He didn't argue, because it was true. His semi-conscious mind vowed to make it up to her later before full darkness took over.

Alexis felt like she had just closed her eyes and listened to Daryl's heart beat exactly three times when she opened them again and saw morning peeking through the window at her. She was alone in the bed, and found herself frowning slightly as she got up and dressed quickly before the chill could set in. Waking up alone was something she never minded before, but for some reason she minded now. She gasped as she stepped outside in bare feet, then hurried back inside to slip her boots on. Summer was long over, and even Fall was now starting to get a little too cold for its own good. She pulled the sleeping bag around herself and grabbed her old oversized denim jacket, having spotted Daryl across the parking lot, standing alone next to his truck. The sky was growing lighter, but the sun had not risen yet. Alexis hurried over to him, her breath blowing out in the sort of puffs she'd thought were fun when she was a kid.

"Hey," she said as she approached him. "What are you doing out here so early? It's freezing!" She draped the jacket around his shoulders and he pushed his arms into the sleeves without looking. Merle's motorcycle was parked against the side of the building, well-sheltered and away from any prying eyes that might have passed by. Daryl stood regarding it thoughtfully.

"Are you okay?" Alexis frowned at the motorcycle, not understanding. Daryl blinked, then looked at her as if noticing her for the first time.

"Hey. Yeah, I was jus' thinkin... guess they musta used my truck yesterday an' unloaded Merle's ride to save gas."

"I guess," Alexis agreed. "I'm sure T-Dog will help you push it back up, though. I'll ask him," she offered, but Daryl was shaking his head.

"No," he said, then drew a breath and let it out slowly. "Grimes was right. It'd just be slowin' us down."

"You want to leave it here? You sure?" Alexis slipped her hand into his and squeezed lightly, wondering if he was sleepwalking. But he squeezed back and nodded.

"I'm sure," he said.

An hour and a half later, the caravan was ready to go, although it was much smaller than before. The RV would take the lead as always, but now the only vehicles that followed would be T-Dog's Explorer and Daryl's pickup truck. The RV was almost literally a full house now, with Rick, Lori and Carl joining Dale, Andrea, Carol and Sophie for the journey. Glenn immediately removed himself to ride with T-Dog, stating that he would go insane with that many women chattering in his ear, and Alexis rode with Daryl as always. Or rather, she drove and insisted Daryl sleep.

Rick had a vague plan that involved heading for the coast. They would skirt Eastward around the city and follow the first Southbound route they found and keep going South until they found the ocean. That was as good as it was going to get for now, and nobody seemed inclined to make a fuss for more details. Alexis changed the batteries in all the radios so everyone could keep in touch, and a second vague plan was made to look for a suitable stopping place before dark.

But plans always seemed to have a way of falling to the side, and everyone kept that knowledge in the back of their minds as they pulled out of the motel parking lot. Shane's Jeep and Merle's motorcycle were the only testament that anyone had been there recently, should anyone happen to be passing by who might still be living and take notice.

_Well we know where we're going_  
><em>But we don't know where we've been<em>  
><em>And we know what we're knowing<em>  
><em>But we can't say what we've seen<em>  
><em>And we're not little children<em>  
><em>And we know what we want<em>  
><em>And the future is certain<em>  
><em>Give us time to work it out<em>

_We're on a road to nowhere_  
><em>Come on inside<em>  
><em>Taking that ride to nowhere<em>  
><em>We'll take that ride<em>  
><em>I'm feeling okay this morning<em>  
><em>And you know we're on the road to paradise<em>  
><em>Here we go, here we go<em>

_Maybe you wonder where you are_  
><em>I don't care<em>  
><em>Here is where time is on our side<em>  
><em>I'll take you there, take you there<em>

_We're on a road to nowhere_  
><em>There's a city in my mind<em>  
><em>Come along and take that ride<em>  
><em>and it's all right, baby, it's all right<em>  
><em>And it's very far away<em>  
><em>But it's growing day by day<em>  
><em>And it's all right, baby, it's all right<em>

_They can tell you what to do_  
><em>But they'll make a fool of you<em>  
><em>And it's all right, baby, it's all right<em>  
><em>We're on a road to nowhere...<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Song Lyrics:<br>**Bullets for My Valentine, _Road to Nowhere_  
>Talking Heads, <em>Road to Nowhere<em>

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you to everybody who has been following me on this weird journey. Yep, we've reached the end._.._ or if you prefer, a rest stop on the way to the next part. I've already started to put it together, you'll be hearing from me soon.

Thank you viktorskrumpet, JoanieNobody, Lucy Freebird, ChildlikeEmpress, ShiveringTree, murphstheman, xXBXx, pitbullsrok, K, GingerGidget, Websterjude, Beholder, luveskane, Galactic Cannibalism, AvidReaderWolf, dragoness0420, Willow The Collie, Jac Danvers, ChaoticxTheoreticals, Tenderloin Baby, SuziQ22, Zsra187, constantlylost, marc...

If I missed anyone, I do apologize. I'll make it up to you later ;)  
><em><br>_


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